God is a Witch
by slytherinsauce
Summary: in which the wizarding world will never be the same. Years after the Battle of Hogwarts, Theodore Nott receives a letter from Azkaban. What happens when he tells Hermione Granger that her name was supposed to be Eloise Nott? And what will she do with Victoria Sallow, the alter-ego she already has? Most things are no better when they're left unsaid.
1. PILOT

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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[ _**REVISIONED**_ : _**05** / **18** / **19**_ ]

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 **PART ONE:**  
 _ **"A ROOM IS NOT A HOUSE AND A**_ _ **HOUSE IS NOT A HOME"**_

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 **0.**

 **ANTEFACT**

.

* * *

 ** _(Ministry of Magic, DMLE Office,  
Whitehall, London, England,  
_** ** _May 2nd, 1998, around 23.20 p.m.)_**

* * *

 _"My dear son,  
if you are reading this letter it means my body has already turned to ashes._

 _I'm writing it just because I'm not sure you'll answer the others I'll send you in the future._

 _I don't blame you, my boy. You have my word._

 _I haven't been a good father._

 _I haven't been a good wizard, either, even though I hope the reasons behind my actions will somehow provide my soul, someday, some absolution._

 _After we write our last wishes we are going to be transferred from the Ministry to Azkaban, where we'll wait until our cases will be examined. Some of us will get trials, some of us won't.  
I'll personally ask not to have one. I don't deserve it... _

_The first time they locked me there I had a reason to escape, I had you to go back to._

 _Now the Dark Lord has fallen eventually._

 _It may sound odd coming from me, but as your mother and I celebrated all those years ago, when Harry Potter defeated him the first time, today I'm happy. I am happy because you are free, you are free from the life I chose for myself._

 _Tom Riddle was a natural leader, back in the day, and we were too prideful of our heritage to take a step back and really think about the consequences._

 _By the time I left Hogwarts, half of my class was already marked.  
Lucius Malfoy was the first._

 _Your mother did everything she could to stop me, but something happened that year and eventually my thirst for revenge stained my judgement._

 _By the time you were born we already understood it was a mistake._

 _You see, only a Death Eater knows what it feels like to have his mark._

 _That's why many of us said we were under the Imperius curse after the first war._

 _Technically, we weren't. It was something much worse._

 _Our actions were not the only thing he could control through it, I saw Alston Carrow killing his wife and giving Him his children, and I swear to you that he was a nice, polite wizard; we shared a room in Slytherin and I knew him like the handle of my wand: he wouldn't have done it on his own will._

 _I still wonder why the Ministry didn't investigate his suicide. Perhaps it would have given them some insight about the wizards they were chasing. Perhaps they would have paid more attention to a small, yet fierce and strong portion of our society who cares about its history and traditions._

 _Always be prideful, Theo. Anytime I told you this Anastasia laughed._

 _She was beautiful, your mother, the finest Lady of the Manor my ancestors could ask for._

 _I loved her very much and she loved me back. I didn't deserve it._

 _Anastasia used to tell me love is not something you deserve. Either you have it or you don't. Love is pure instinct, she would say. It's what breaks my heart the most, son: she loved me, and I broke her. I failed her. I failed your mother and I failed you._

 _We told you what happened to your sister. Eloise didn't make it out of Anastasia's body._

 _She was born and then she was dead. We could say she never lived._

 _It was a lie._

 _When the two of you were born Harry Potter still wasn't, and the Dark Lord was stronger than ever._

 _Every wizard in Britain was wondering when the Ministry would eventually fall. It didn't, but it was going to._

 _That's why your mother and I made the toughest decision of our lives._

 _You were sick, Theo, you couldn't breathe on your own. The House-Elf who assisted your mother was giving up when you suddenly started to cry. We never figured out exactly what happened, but it was your sister's magic who saved your life._

 _We didn't know we were expecting twins._

 _By the time Anastasia discovered she was pregnant Tom Riddle had already started to turn against us._

 _He started with small things, like meddling into our private lives and making demands. First, he claimed objects. Some properties, ancient artefacts, books from the oldest families' libraries. Then he started claiming people. For the greater good, he would say._

 _He needed both our finances and our magic to finally accomplish what we wanted the most: some recognition from our society, the promise the names of the families who built this country will be remembered and their children respected._

 _He didn't care about our cause, but none of us had the courage to admit we had been blinded by his promises of glory and handed our lives and the lives of our children to a madman who would end up wiping away our names from history books._

 _I won't be remembered for the wizard I've been, son._

 _I think spending the rest of my life in a cell will help me deal with the fact that our name will no longer be praised in the halls of the Ministry, nor our proposals will be voted in the Wizengamot._

 _I'm sorry if being a Nott will be the reason of your shame, son, and I'm forever sorry if my choices will ever prevent you from chasing your dreams._

 _The one Anastasia and I made the day you were born, though, that I will never regret. It kept you and your sister safe._

 _At least when I'll meet your mother again I'll be able to tell her I kept my last promise to her: you are both alive._

 _Son, I know what I'm about to tell you will make you hate me even more._

 _I wish we could have this conversation face to face, but you're too much like myself._

 _If you're reading this letter and I bet all my Galleons you are, Theo, it means I'm forever gone._

 _Maybe I'll be already gone because of the Dementors in the letters I will send you from now on, but I hope that in the end I'll reach peace and accept what I've done for this family. For myself and your mother, but mostly for you and your sister._

 _You must hate me, but I don't hold you accountable for it._

 _That's what I've been trying to achieve all along, so you'd go as far away as possible and be safe._

 _It wasn't the case, unfortunately, but I'm proud of the man you've managed to become._

 _The man you became all by yourself, whom I love very, very much._

 _I love you, my son, despite the fact our house wasn't the warmest._

 _Losing Eloise put distance between Anastasia and I, but after I lost my wife I set myself on the path of losing you too and for that I am sorry._

 _You're what I have left of an entire life in the moment of my demise, as Aurors tell me to hurry and I don't have the power to tell them to back off. Not anymore._

 _At least I have the faculty to think safely within my own head, now that the Dark Lord is gone._

 _This time for good._

 _I must cut short here, they are starting to move us.  
I'll probably be in my new room by the end of the day._

 _You have to find her, son. Find Eloise and bring her home…"_

* * *

 ** _(Soho, London, England,  
_** ** _March 15th, 2001, around 08:03 a.m.)_**

* * *

They knocked the first time at 8 a.m.

Blaise snorted loudly, kicking Draco out of the sofa they were sharing.

He fell on Theodore's feet, who mumbled something and turned his head towards the right, adjusting it over his shoulder.

The armchair he'd fallen asleep in wasn't particularly comfortable, and it was probably the reason why he heard the second knock on the door, followed by a small cough and the sound of two people talking.

"Mr. Nott, are you at home?", asked a high-pitched female voice.

When Theo opened the door he wasn't still fully awake, but the excited squeal the middle-aged woman produced when she saw him definitely sent his brain in alert.

The brooch on both the witch and the wizard's cloaks helped him recognize them as Ministry's officers.

Of which level or grade he couldn't really tell, but suddenly he felt extremely defensive.

Last time he had spoken with someone belonging to the government things didn't turn out so great for him. All they could bring was bad news.

" _What have I told you_ , Gustave", the witch chirped. "The boy is home".

"Hello, umh… _lady_. Can I help you with something?"

"Hello to you too, Mr. Nott. I'm Clara Stevens, from _Human Resources_. Tonight the Ministry has received a letter from Azkaban, _dear_ ", she said, and her voice slightly softened towards the end of her sentence.

It didn't took long for Theo to realize what her words really meant, but he didn't allow a single word to leave his mouth. He needed to hear it.

" _Your father has left this world, boy_ ", she confirmed. "He was diagnosed with a very bad disease a couple of months ago, but the records prove that he refused medical care. Yesterday morning he got worse, but he was asleep when he actually passed away, so at least he didn't suffer". She sighed dramatically before taking his hand and pulling it to her heart. "If you need anything you can contact my department for assistance. Here's my business card, owl me if you feel like you need a chat".

He felt numb as he looked her up and down, noticing her appearance for the first time since she'd started talking: the woman was around forty-five years of age, with a deep complexion and wild, voluminous curls.

A maternal smile was caressing her full lips, lightening up her dark eyes in the process, but there was nothing in her kindness that inspired Theodore to the point of trusting her with his thoughts.

He just wanted to be left alone.

"I'm Gustave Richelieu, Mr. Nott. The night your father was imprisoned I was assigned the task of collecting his and the other prisoners' testamentary dispositions. Your father left you all family's possessions as only heir of House Nott and this letter", he trailed off, reaching inside a pocked of his jacket to grab a white envelope. "I will give it to you as soon as you'll sign some mandatory papers".

"Do you have a quill?", was all Theodore bothered to ask.

Despite the fact he had ignored all of his father's letters in the past three years, burning them to ashes as soon as they were delivered, Theodore now wanted to get this over with as soon as possible.

One last letter and then he was finally free.

He was finally alone. _The last fucking member of his illustrious family_.

He picked up the quill Ms. Stevens gently handed to him, signing his name three different times: first things first, he was now the only owner of all properties and vaults at Gringott's, _and_ the family business; then he was willing to respect his father's last request and read the letter Mr. Richelieu had mentioned; last but not least, he authorized the Ministry to bury his body next to his late wife in the family crypt.

He didn't understand how much was protocol and how much his father's doing, and he honestly didn't care.

Maybe he should have insisted about giving Cantankerus a proper funeral, he was his father after all, but Theo just gave the signed papers to Gustave and grabbed the letter he was still holding in his hand, closing the door behind him after a quick "Have a nice day" that left the Ministry employees rather baffled.

He made his way back to the living room, where Blaise and Draco were still sleeping in the same positions they were before.

With a sigh he kept walking, stopping only when he reached the door of his personal room.

Sometimes he hated sharing a flat with his best mates.

It was just like it was in Hogwarts: _no privacy at all_.

* * *

 ** _(Soho, London, England,  
_** ** _March 15th, 2001, around 10:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

Two hours later he knew the letter like he was the person who had written it.

Theodore didn't know what to think. Or what to feel.

His father was gone forever, and nothing could ever bring him back.

Despite the anger and the hurt, the good memories were coming back to him.  
He was in the uncomfortable position of hating himself because of his grief.

There was more.

The moment he thought he was literally alone in the world, an _orphan_ , something he long believed was gone forever was now given back to him.

His sister was alive.

After twenty-one years wondering how life with Eloise would have been, he was given the chance of experiencing it for real.

Theodore just needed to be patient and examine the situation at the best of his abilities before deciding on the best course of action.

It wasn't going to be easy.

It was Hermione Granger he was talking about.

Just when he thought his father couldn't have _screwed up_ his life more.

He skimmed again through the last portion of the letter, where the detail had been given away.

His parents had replaced a dead muggle child with Eloise a few days after she was born, afraid of what the Dark Lord could have done to their family, and their children, if he ever found out.

Theodore couldn't say he understood their motives completely, but he remembered the terrified look on his mother's face whenever someone would mention _His_ name.

Anastasia Nott definitely hadn't been a supporter of the cause, so Theodore convinced himself that the idea of hiding his twin with muggles must had been hers.

 _Why did they never say a word to him, though?  
Why didn't they go back and bring Eloise home after Tom Riddle had died the first time?  
_  
Too many questions were haunting his mind, but he had no one to talk to who could answer them.

He just had to find her, only then he could think of what to do next.

* * *

.

 **1.**  
 **PILOT**

 **.**

" _fly with the birds in the wind, where you wanna go,  
who, what, why, when? on a scale from nine to ten_"

* * *

 ** _(Nott Enterprises, Diagon Alley, London, England,  
_** ** _June 17th, 2002, around 18:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

Finding Eloise was the hardest thing he'd ever tried to accomplish.

Harder than running from the Death Eaters during the Battle of Hogwarts, harder than coming back to his family home when everyone else was never going to be there ever again.

If only he could find her, then maybe he wouldn't get chills anytime the wind blowed and something moved in the gardens.

Theodore Nott never really _recovered_ from the war.

The fear and the anger were impossible to erase overnight after they'd been chipping at his soul for years.

It had been little more than a year since he'd discovered the truth about his sister's death, or better, his sister's survival, and even though terrified by the confrontation they'd eventually end up having, he knew for sure that finding her was crucial if he wanted any chance not to recover, but at least to improve his current status.

At the age of twenty-two, Theo didn't understand where his life was going.

Moreover, he didn't really care.

Seven months before he had returned to the Manor and took the reins of the family's business, Nott Enterprises.

At first it had been quite rough: with no experience in that field, or any field at all, he had struggled to understand what where the internal dynamics of the company and who were the people he could trust.

After the first month he was able to see the end of the day with less than two mental breakdowns, which was quite the record considering how he'd dealt with his new job in the first few weeks.

He wasn't used to be this emotional, or at least he wasn't used to show it.

This wasn't the life he'd chosen for himself. He didn't care if it wasn't as bad as it was supposed to be in the beginning. He didn't got the mark, that much was true, but witches and wizards still looked at him like he was the Dark Lord himself.

The same name who once had made him proud now was an unbearable source of shame.

If Theodore got to choose, he'd consider leaving England, or at least moving far away from London, where everybody knew his face and the reason why is father had died locked up in Azkaban.

With a small knock on the door his secretary announced her presence. "I'm sorry to bother you, Mr. Nott. Mr. Zabini is requesting a meet-".

"How many times do I have to tell you to call me _Blaise_ , darling?" The wizard entered the room before Lauren could announce him.

With a frown she turned her gaze back to her boss, slightly bowing her head in a mute apology. "I am mortified, Mr. Nott. He never listens to me when I say he needs to wait outside for me to check on your availability and announce your presence. I'm very, very sorry".

"It's not a problem, Lauren. Blaise is always welcome in here".

The witch blushed, then turned on her heels and disappeared.

Lauren Sterne had graduated from Hogwarts two years before, she was a former member of Hufflepuff and definitely a _lifesaver_ to him.

Theo was about to reproach Zabini for checking her out as she walked out of his office, but then changed his mind. _He was never going to change_.

It was quite reassuring, actually, how some things would always stay the same way.

"She's very nice", the other wizard casually pointed out.

"Don't you even think about it. She's the only thing preventing me from drowning in these papers. You can _fuck_ any girl you want, but not my secretary. Have I made myself clear?"

"Relax, mate. I was just trying to make some conversation, besides I didn't say anything offensive, did I? I said she's nice, in a girl-next-door, _hermionegranger_ -ish kind of way".

 _He just didn't, did he?_  
Theo was suddenly desperate for a change of subject. He cleared his throat. "Why are you here, by the way?", he asked.

"Dinner, _tonight_. Pansy's back. I managed to get Draco, too, and you know how hard that is to accomplish as of lately. I won't take a no for an answer".

"Do I have the time to get a change of clothing, at least?"

" _Nope_. Put away those papers, we're leaving as soon as possible".

Theo sighed, but ultimately followed the orders.

On their way out they greeted Lauren, who looked pleased at the idea of finally being able to go home.

It was a non-spoken rule between the two of them, which had urged him, truth must be told, to raise her salary twice since she'd started working for him: she wouldn't leave the office before him.

Once outside the building he allowed Blaise to side-apparate him, and a moment later the two landed in a spot of Muggle London they'd grown to consider safe for such purpose.

After about fifteen minutes of walking they finally reached the restaurant selected for the evening.

It had opened recently and served _sushi_ , which wasn't really his favourite thing to eat, but it looked nice, clean and polished.

It was too cold for the two to wait outside, so they entered and asked for their table.

The point of choosing a place in muggle London was that they could go unnoticed and have a nice evening: nobody would have inspected them at the door or gave them looks of disgust.

The wizarding world wasn't very welcoming towards their bunch, nowadays, and in places like Diagon Alley there were even commercial activities where " _Death Eaters cannot enter_ " signs were displayed.

Despite the fact only one person in their group was marked, Draco, none of them had tried entering into one of those: it was the _idea_ of being Death Eaters that was marked in their names and history.

Muggles were less prejudiced, and their intriguing universe was a much more appealing choice for their Theo and his friends if they wanted to have fun on a night out.

He'd almost come to like them for this specific reason, which was quite the accomplishment considering his upbringing.

Though he wasn't exactly someone you'd call _bloodthirsty_ , his father had been quite opinionated as to which he thought their place should be.

He doubted his mother would share such views, nonetheless he'd had no chance of verifying his idea: she'd fell ill long before such topics had become everything his father would talk about.

Remembering his letter, however, Theo couldn't help but wondering how much of those talks had been demanded or supplied by Voldemort instead of Cantankerus.

"What do you think she'll look like?", Blaise suddenly asked.

"Who? Pansy? Umh, I don't know. She can't have changed that much, I suppose. It'll probably depend on how she spent the last three years".

Zabini seemed satisfied with his answer. He nodded and didn't reply.

Pansy arrived five minutes later.

Everything about her seemed different, except for the hair: still dark, still short, same bangs.

She had lost weight since the last time they'd seen her, but she didn't look overly skinny. Just very small.

She was wearing a little black dress and the highest heels Theodore had ever seen.

He exchanged a knowing look with Blaise. _Her life was probably amazing_.

"Merlin, let me see you. You are beautiful. _Bellissima_ ", said, always the gentleman, Blaise, who kissed the back of her hand before pulling her into a hug.

Theo didn't know the exact translation of the Italian word his half-Italian friend had just complimented her with, but the blush on the witch's cheeks confirmed his suspicions about its endearing quality.

He stood up a moment later, kissing her hand as well, and then her cheeks. "I must say I agree with Blaise. You really are beautiful, Pansy", he complimented.

She gave them her sweetest smile before she promptly sat at the table.

She'd probably noticed the muggles eyeing them. He had, too, he just couldn't figure out _why_.

"The _hand-kissing thing_ , guys", Pansy explained when they sat down again, "It's a little _vintage_ for them, you know. I'm pretty sure that lady over there", she said, shamelessly pointing her perfectly manicured index finger at her, "Just had a big argument with her husband because he doesn't do things like that. Not anymore, at least. Considering their age, they are probably really _vintage_ too".

" _Oh, how I missed this woman_ ". Draco had finally arrived; he hugged her for what felt like a century, then took his seat in front of her, on the chair next to Theodore's. "Are we waiting for someone else?", he asked when the greetings officially stopped.

"No, we are not. Daphne and Astoria are currently visiting Spain with their parents, while Greg was supposed to come, but then called me and said something else came up. I think he might finally be proposing, actually", said Blaise, who'd been in charge of putting the entire group together for the night.

"I get to have dinner with the best of the best, so I wouldn't complain too much", Pansy teased. "I'm sure I'll get to catch up with everyone else very soon. But wait… _what did you say?_ _Goyle_ is proposing? To _whom_?", she asked, excitedly.

For those who had been knowing her since a very young age, as they did, it was pretty obvious that she couldn't quite imagine such an event happening.

"Well, he's not the same kid we went to school with, that's for sure", Theo hurried to explain. "He's been with Tracey Davis for almost two years now".

"And she's even hotter than she was in school", Blaise smirked.

"Well, this is unexpected", she replied with a smile, "But I am very happy for him. If someone deserves some kind of happiness, that's Goyle for sure. Now, tell me how my _best friends_ are doing, you were always so cryptical in your letters. That is, when you _at least_ had the decency to send one".

"We are sorry, Pans", spoke Draco for all of them.

"We didn't want to drag you into our personal hell, things haven't been the best in England for _Slytherins_ , _Purebloods_ or _Death Eater_ 's relatives. Especially when you fit inside of two or more categories".

They spent the rest of the evening simply catching up.

They laughed and ate sushi. They drunk and exchanged anecdotes from those parts of their lives that probably would never cross paths, shared their opinions on recent Wizengamot's laws, especially the one that was going to raise the monthly tax that each family remotely connected to the Dark Lord (even by mistake) had to pay to the Ministry of Magic.

The _wrong_ surname sufficed to make you subject to it.

"They finished paying for the damages a century ago. Most families from the Sacred 28 are on that list, most families whose members tend to be sorted in Slytherin are there, too. Apparently, there was a lot of them in Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff, and even one or two in Gryffindor. I don't think it's our money they're after, I believe it's our pride. And they also want to make sure we'll never take a step out of the line again, which it's totally comprehensible".

It was Blaise who took it upon himself to voice what everyone was thinking.

Zabini had been neutral during the war, but never left his friends when things got tougher, so he was labelled a Death Eater even though the only crime that needed investigation in his family was the weird statistic tendency of his mother's husbands to die shortly after the marriage.

Not much later, as they were finishing their dinner, Draco dropped another bomb. "Oh, Pansy. I believe I forgot to mention that I have a _daughter_ ".

Theodore and Blaise weren't shocked by the admission, as he'd told them about it not long after discovering it himself, but Theo was amused by Pansy's reaction, nonetheless: at first she blinked a couple times, pinching herself on the cheek as if she wanted to check on the realness of her present, then asked him to repeat himself. When Malfoy had done so, Pansy just shrugged and said: "I want to meet her. How old is she? I bet she's _so_ pretty. I can't believe you have a child, Draco".

"I couldn't believe it myself. So, you _don't_ ask me about her mother?", he queried.

"Like that would matter. She's your child, she's genetically _designed_ to be pretty. It could be McGonagall's own flesh and blood and she'd still be pretty", the witch reassured him with a smile.

"Well, I think she's very pretty, but I might be a little biased on this front", Draco complied. "Her mother is definitely not McGonagall, but there's more to this story. I met Adhara's mum when I was in probation".

"You mean when you were exiled and living with muggles?", she inquired.

" _She was a muggle_ ", he admitted with a shrug. Then he looked up and smiled at their oldest female friends, the only one who'd been admitted to their boys-only group long before they'd started Hogwarts. "We lived in the same apartment".

"She _was_?", was the only piece of information Pansy bothered to give attention to.

"She died. That's how I discovered about Adhara in the first place. It probably happened after I told her I was going to leave. She didn't know I'm a wizard, obviously, and at the time it wasn't much of a problem since the Ministry kept my wand for the whole two years. My daughter was born in April, it was her mother's sister who called me. She died giving birth at the muggle hospital and I was still her emergency contact. I was lucky I kept a telephone around when my probation ended, I suppose. I think it's way less bothering than picking up ink, parchment and quill, write, tie the letter to the owl and then send him away, anyway. Muggles have such a simpler life".

"I am so, so sorry about what happened, Draco", said Pansy, sorrow and concern palpable in her voice as she took in the news. "Tell me more about your little girl".

"Well, she's barely two, so there isn't much she says, already. The only thing I'm sure of, is that she'll be the first Malfoy not to be sorted in Slytherin over the past three centuries. She makes the Elves crazy, all she does is running around breaking old jars and ornaments. Mother couldn't care less, though. She's in love with Adhara almost as much as I am", said the blond, complying to her request.

After months of wondering, Theo finally managed the courage to ask. "What about Lucius?"

His best friend visibly stiffened. "Lucius doesn't know, yet. Next year, when he'll get out of prison, it'll be the first thing I'll tell him. I hope I've already found a place for me and Adhara to live in by then. I don't think I could manage living under the same roof as him anymore".

"How do you think he'll take the news?", Blaise chimed in, apparently invested in the answers to the same questions he'd just voiced.

On the other side of the table, Pansy crossed her hands under her chin, slightly leaning towards Draco as the wizard finally answered. "Guys, you can say it, you know? _What will Lucius Malfoy think of his Half-blood granddaughter_?" There was harshness in his words, but also a big portion of sarcasm tapped with irony dressing. He didn't believe in all that blood-status bullshit anymore. Theo knew that he hadn't in a very long time. No one inside their circle still did. "I'm pretty certain we will have the same rocky and emotionless relationship we always had, but to some degree I have forgiven my father for his past actions. I know I _won't_ forgive him if he disrespect my child, though. Neither will my mother. Ask me in a year and a half and, hopefully, I'll have a better answer to give you".

Nobody dared saying another word after that, not until the waitress returned with their bill.

All three men picked up their wallet, but Pansy moved faster. She gave the girl a silver, shiny credit card and told her to keep an extra 50 pounds and buy herself something nice.

Her three friends were slightly taken aback. It wasn't very customary for women to pay when they were out with men inside of Pureblood circles: it was a semi-unspoken rule they were taught from a very young age (it wasn't fashionable not to provide for them, apparently), one they couldn't exactly explain or justify, nor one they thought much about, so they'd never bothered questioning it. Clearly Pansy had.

"Where'd you get that?", Zabini asked, eyeing her VISA as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world.

"You're not the only people who lived with muggles, you know?", was her cheerful reproach.

In that moment the waitress was back with the receipt and Pansy's card.

On their way to the nearest apparition point, the foursome spoke of seeing each other again very soon.

It was nice to spend a night out without everyone _stabbing_ you with their eyes.

Draco was the first to leave, and he dis-apparated after promising Pansy that he'd write to her first thing the morning after to make plans about introducing her to his daughter.

He'd seemed positively elated by the request, and considering how proud he was of his child, it didn't surprise Theo very much: he and Blaise were probably not the best option when it came to enthuse over a baby.

The dark-skinned wizard left shortly after, giving one more one-sided hug to both Pansy and Theodore.

As soon as they were left on their own, the witch raised her head and met his gaze. "I'm sorry about your father, Theo".

He cringed. "Yeah, it was- _Thank you, Pansy_ ".

"Owl me if you ever need to talk about it", she recommended.

The witch kissed his cheek and dis-apparated.

Standing alone on the street, Theo soon followed his friends' footsteps and apparated home as well.

Once in the Manor he went straight to bed, his mind finally made up.

Unfortunately, when he entered the Auror Department the following morning, Harry Potter was nowhere to be found.

He'd thought about asking directly where Hermione Granger could be found, as she seemed to have disappeared only a few months after the Battle of Hogwarts to never return.

He could face people staring inside the DMLE and ask for the Golden Boy's help, but what could he possibly achieve against _bad luck_? That's what it was. It had to be.

The young wizard at the only occupied desk informed him that Potter would return at the end of the summer. The Auror added something about a spiritual journey in east Asia, but he wasn't listening at that point.

Theo was about to leave when a familiar spot of ginger hair entered the office.

"Is everything ok, Trev?", asked Ronald Weasley when he noticed his presence.

"Yeah, sure. Mr. Nott here was looking for Harry Potter, _Sir_ ".

"Well, Harry is not here now", the red-haired drawled in his direction. "You should return in September".

"Maybe it's something you can help me with", he tried, swallowing hard what was left of his pride.

Theodore didn't like the idea of asking _the Weasel_ for help one bit, but it was still better than leaving without any new information on his twin sister's whereabouts.

"Oh, yeah? _That_ I really want to hear. What can I do for you, Nott?", Ron urged.

The Auror didn't seem too bothered by talking to him, so he went straight to the point, hoping his efforts will finally start producing some results. "Where can I find _Hermione Granger_?"

"I don't see how that is any of your business", was the wizard's stern reply.

Theo had felt stupid one second after he'd asked the question: why would Ronald Weasley, of all people, do him a favour? Why would anybody?

The world had changed after the war.

He was no longer in the position of asking for _anything_ from _anyone_ inside the Ministry, no matter he had no criminal record whatsoever and he'd had actually been busy trying to make amends for his father's mistakes: nobody cared about Theodore or the Nott family anymore.

He was just a piece of dirt under the average wizard or witch's shoes.

"I would like to, _umh-_ I would like to apologize for how I behaved in her regards during our time at Hogwarts", he blurted out.

He dared to hope his lie was good enough when the Auror's gaze softened a little. "I don't recall you being particularly mean, at least not to Hermione", Ron said, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Well, maybe I wasn't, but some of my friends definitely were", he conceded. "I would really like to tell her I'm sorry that I never explicitly told them to shut up".

"That's unexpectedly nice of you, but I'm afraid I still can't tell you where she is. Only Harry knows it for sure, but even he hasn't seen her in years. I'll make sure he'll pass the message when he comes back from his trip. _Urgh_ , thank you _?_ _I suppose_ ".

After his conversation with Weasley, Theo Nott had lost all hope he'd ever find his sister.

It was like she'd moved to another planet.

* * *

 ** _(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland,  
March 1st, 2003, around 9:55 a.m.)_**

* * *

After his conversation with Weasley, Theo Nott had lost all hope he'd ever find his twin sister.

It was like she'd moved to another planet.

"Malfoy Manor!", he had shouted as soon as he'd apparated into his personal studio at home and stepped into the floo.

Narcissa had greeted him with a puzzled look, not used to unannounced guests, or lately to receiving guests at all lately, her breakfast cup of tea still suspended mid-air. "Hello, Theodore. What brings you in my parlour at nine in the morning?"

"Hello, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sorry to bother you", he'd apologized. "I must urgently speak with Draco. It's a matter of great importance".

The woman had smiled and invited him to sit with her, then called for one of her House-Elves and sent her to look for the young master.

Draco arrived ten minutes later, holding his daughter in one arm.

Narcissa stood up, took the toddler and left with the excuse of serving Adhara's breakfast in her personal garden, as the sun and nice atmosphere would've cheered them both up for the day out ahead of them.

"Hey, mate. Sorry I didn't announce myself. I need your help", he said when they were left alone.

He'd then told Draco everything.

Theodore had realized he could do with some help after all, so he'd went straight to his closest friend.

His reaction to the news had been funny to watch: Malfoy had visibly gulped, then embarrassed himself with what was supposed to be an apology for his past behavior; at last, he'd not-so-cleverly stated: " _Man, haven't seen her in ages_ ".

Now they were finally ready to put their plan into motion.

A year later and every little variable considered, he would finally get his chance to proper meet his sister and eventually let his mind have a much needed rest. "Do you think McGonagall will laugh in our faces?", he asked as the two walked side by side, following the familiar path to the Headmistress' office that nothing could erase from their memories.

They had arrived at Hogwarts very early in the morning, hours before their appointment with the Headmistress, so they'd wandered around the first level of the school for a little, eventually settling in sitting on a bench in the courtyard where they used to spend their free periods as students.

It was the same courtyard were Draco had been turned into a ferret.

Minerva McGonagall received them at 10 a.m.

"Good morning, Mr. Nott. Good morning, Mr. Malfoy", she greeted them from behind the impressive wooden desk. "I must admit that I was curious of what the two of you needed an appointment with me for", she added, barely raising her eyes from the parchment in her hands and obviously leaving them no space for small talk of any kind.

"We are sorry to interrupt you, Headmistress", Draco apologized, "We have been working on a project for a long time and we would like to include you and the school in it. I know you might be skeptical, but please, hear us out".

Her attitude was still far from friendly, but she invited them to continue with a simple gesture of her hand, clearly intrigued.

"We'd like to organize a small party for the students that were in our year. I believe the right definition would be reunion. We are here to ask you if you could possibly consider to allow us to book Hogwarts as the location. Of course, we'd take care of all costs and expenses", the blond explained.

"Why?", their old Professor inquired.

"I'm sorry, Headmistress, but isn't it obvious? We have all gone to school here and this is a reunion", said Draco before turning his head in Theo's direction. _Duh?_

"I think the Headmistress wants to know why we of all people would like to host such an event in the first place", Theo finally spoke up.

The woman nodded, grateful for his perceptiveness. If he remembered correctly, Minerva McGonagall valued pragmatism and straight-forwardness more than anything else.

"We haven't been the best people when we studied here, have we? We would like to start building some of the bridges our teachers constantly talked about", he continued.

"I believe that could be arranged, Mr. Nott", the Headmistress conceded. "I can't let you have your party until the term is over, obviously. It certainly won't be happening before the tenth of June".

"That would be _lovely_ ", Draco chimed in once more, though the sarcasm dripping from the last word didn't go unnoticed. "The complete guest-list would be no longer than a hundred, a hundred and fifty people, we promise".

Minerva blinked. "I don't remember such a number of students belonging to the class of 1991. Perhaps you want to reconsider that number, Mr. Malfoy. I'm absolutely certain there were no more than twelve, perhaps fifteen students in Slytherin that year".

"The party is not reserved to just Slytherin, Headmistress. We don't need to build bridges with people we've known our entire life", Theo explained, "The reunion is for all students in our year, which includes Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff and, well, Gryffindor, too. We were about fifty-something and some of us will probably be married at this point, maybe with children. And we also thought we could invite a couple of retired professors, maybe the Minister-"

"You certainly have an ambitious plan, but I'm not entirely sure this will be a good idea", the witch said quietly. "I still remember how many accidents happened in Hogwarts when you were students. Perhaps you should choose a more neutral location-"

"I don't see what harm may come with a party, Minerva. I remember the Yule Ball going perfectly fine during their fourth year", interrupted Dumbledore's voice from the portrait hanged in the wall behind the Headmistress. The frame wasn't too large, nor the scenery the old wizard was painted in was too much of a work of art.

All of the painter's attention must have been focused on the Headmaster's eyes, because those were perfectly convincing: sage and bittersweet, they shined with half-concealed amusement.

Theo and Draco visibly gulped under his visual inspection.

The old wizard still wore his half-moon shaped glasses and the usual light blue robe, and his beard looked longer than ever.

"You're right, Albus, but Hogwarts has never hosted such an event before, and-", his old friend and fellow Gryffindor tried to reason with him.

"What are you really scared of, Minerva? The boys here will take care of the practical aspects, like organizing and paying, while you will only have to enjoy an evening with some of your favourite students of all times", Dumbledore argued, and if it wasn't so helpful and appreciated, Theo would have found his stubbornness on the matter quite odd. "You see how stretched out our society is, perhaps one or two more parties will be more helpful than the nonsense the Wizengamot is passing as laws nowadays".

The Headmistress sighed. "I see", she said, though she sounded more like she was admitting her surrender rather than agreeing with him. "Well, then, the tenth of June it is".

"There's one more thing", Theo prompted.

It was the remaining part of their plan: in the unfortunate case the party itself wasn't enough to lure Hermione Granger in, perhaps her love for the castle could achieve that same goal.

After the war Hogwarts had been just as destroyed as the wizarding community, a palpable, visible metaphor, but the funds provided by the Ministry hadn't been enough to completely fix it.

A sufficient number of classes and all the four dormitories had been remade, but most areas of the building were now a case of _forbidden access_ to both students and teachers.

The whole thing had been sold by the Prophet as a precaution to assure safety, but it really was only the government's phrasing for _If an accident happens we are not responsible_ , but also their way of not spending the necessary money on the school and post-pone its reparation.

Despite all his current actions were dictated by sheer egoism, Theo Nott really believed the centuries-old castle could benefit from the event. "We have been reading about the cuts on your budget, Headmistress. We were thinking that maybe we could hold an auction before the real party begins. All profits would be given to Hogwarts to complete reparations", he finally found the courage to propose.

Now it was up to Minerva McGonagall to see if she could look past the entitled, hateful children they'd been and accept the help of the troubled, but definitely more open-minded and philanthropic men they'd become. "I admit the idea is endearing, Mr. Nott", she yielded. "We are in the middle of a massive financial struggle, but I'm afraid you're still missing a detail".

 _Impossible_ , was both Draco and Theodore's first thought.

Their plan was _so_ detailed they had had to write it down to be sure not to forget a single part of it, and they knew each word, variable and comma of it by heart.

"We have nothing to sell in the auction", the Headmistress insisted.

"We'll both make donations", Draco promptly reassured her. "And I'm sure a couple of our friends will do the same. I believe we could also put a discreet note in the invitations, asking those who can afford it to give something up for the auction, too. We all went to school here, I want to hope most of us didn't turn out to be greedy and heartless". Perhaps his friends was bending the boundaries a little too much and going to far in his appeal to the older witch, but seeing as it seemed to be working, Theo didn't interrupt her as he begun to speak again. "I am perfectly certain that once people like _Harry Potter_ make a donation, anyone will simply just follow, no questions asked".

"I will take care of the auction, though", she countered, eyeing them sadly. "We don't want any bad press coming out of this. As unjust as that may sound, I hope we understand each other".

He snorted. It was the polite way of saying people would never trust them to handle it, but they gave their consent anyway: it was the best compromise they could hope to achieve.

They were too close to the goal to be petty and focus on what the public opinion thought about them. "We do. We'll keep in touch as we proceed to organize the event", he said.

They didn't prolong their stay much longer after that.

With the help of the Headmistress they decided what to write in the invitations, which McGonagall reassured would be sent as soon as possible.

On their way out, Draco stopped by the doorjamb and fixed his gaze on the woman's. "If it's not a problem, we were hoping to keep our names out of the invitation".

"You don't want people to know you two are paying for all of this?", she inquired.

"We don't care about that", Theo replied. "But a lot of people probably won't show up if we tell them before they're already here. All we really want is to help the school, and for everyone to have a nice evening. We'll just act like we are simple guests, if that sits well with you".

With nothing else to add, they quickly excused themselves, walked back to the gates outside and said goodbye to each other as they both returned to their lives.

Theodore's personal invitation arrived three days later, and it was personally delivered to him by the Elf he'd given the responsibility of periodically checking his mail for the letter.

"Master's letter has arrived", she announced in the morning, when she apparated on his side and scared the shit out of him as he ate his breakfast. "Praline came here straightaway".

The first thing he noticed was that the Headmistress had made some adjustments to their choice of words, but he didn't mind it as it now sounded much more warm and relaxed.

He'd always hated his lessons of _rhetoric_.

* * *

 _Dear former student,  
the Headmistress and the Hogwarts stuff as a whole  
are very pleased to invite you to the Class of 1991 Reunion  
that will be hosted in The Great Hall of the castle  
on the 10_ _th_ _of June._

 _The school's carriages will be waiting  
for you in Hogsmeade from five to seven thirty p.m._

 _The buffet will be preceded by an auction,  
whose profits will be used to repair the castle,  
which is, sadly, still incredibly damaged by  
the Battle of May 2_

 _nd_ _. Donations of any amount  
or value are welcome and appreciated._

 _Music and drinks will be provided until 12 a.m._

 _You are invited to confirm your participation for organization purposes.  
Friends and family are welcome to join you._

 _My honest regards,  
Minerva McGonagall_

* * *

People reacted to the invitation in many different ways.

* * *

At the Burrow, were the usual Sunday lunch was taking place, Ronald and his wife Lavender exchanged a look before nodding their mutual agreement about their attendance. Things were tense between them after barely two years of marriage, and they both believed that maybe a night out could do some good to their relationship.

Harry beamed at the piece of parchment in his hands, then he invited anyone who'd like to join him at the party to come along, as he considered each and every one of them to be family.

The entire Weasley clan agreed with the exception of Bill and Charlie, who did not live in England and therefore missed most Sunday lunches.

Molly promised she'd try to talk them into attending the upcoming event, but Fleur was rather late on her second pregnancy, and so she expected her oldest son to decline her invitation. She couldn't wait to meet Dominique, though.

The only one who hadn't voiced her opinion was Ginny, who had staid quiet, eating her supper, since the whole conversation had begun. She could feel Harry's eyes burning the crown of her head. "What?", she snapped.

Since they'd broken up things had been really _awkward_ between them.

The night they officially ended their relationship they'd said some pretty terrible things to each other and though Harry had made some efforts to keep things civil between them, Ginny just couldn't bear the pressure of her entire family trying to push them back together.

 _Like they were meant to be_. Obviously they were not, or they would have worked out by now.

"Will you come too? It'll be fun", he quietly replied.

Molly gave her an hopeful look, lips curled up in a hopeful smile.

Ginny put on an equally sappy face. "Of course I'll be there", she declared, as if the thought of her _not going_ was one of sheer madness. "My _boyfriend_ got his letter yesterday night".

"That's cool", said Harry, who then took a sip of his Pumpkin Juice with a smile on his face. "I was actually thinking this reunion would be the perfect occasion to introduce you to my new girlfriend as well".

Anyone was left speechless, except for Ronald, whose focus was on his dish but who also already knew about the recent development in his dating life, and George, who couldn't care less about playing matchmaker with either Harry or his sister.

Molly tried to hide her disappointment by serving the dessert, while Arthur changed the subject on the last laws passed by the Wizengamot, but only Percy seemed interested in the new topic.

For the first time in years, everyone was actually happy lunch was finally over.

* * *

At the Three Broomsticks, were a small gathering of ex D.A. members was taking place, the already infamous reunion was anything people could talk about.

They'd all received their letters in the previous days, someone earlier and someone later depending on the geographical location of their houses and the time needed by the school's owls to reach them.

Parvati Patil bragged about the dress she'd already bought for the occasion, while her sister Padma barely confirmed she'd attend, not too excited by the idea of a party.

Troublemaker and club owner Seamus Finnigan nudged his best mate, Dean Thomas, who'd been an Auror for almost three years now, and both agreed to be there, too.

Party-enthusiast Neville Longbottom shared a list of the legal and illegal substances he'd make sure to sneak into the party, while pragmatic Anthony Goldstein, an Auror once again, muttered something about having no idea what to donate for the auction.

Many shared the feeling, but everyone at the table, from celebrity Quidditch player Cho Chang to Daily Prophet's reporter Susan Bones, agreed on one point: they were going to try and help the school as much as they possibly could.

* * *

In the lovely suburban house just outside of London in which he lived with his gorgeous wife, Tracey Davis, and their recently born daughter, Faith, McGonagall's letter had been welcomed by the woman with a smile so sweet Gregory didn't find the courage to tell her he wasn't comfortable going back there.

He hadn't since the Battle of Hogwarts, when Crabbe had died.

Perhaps it was time he faced the last and darkest of the demons haunting him.

* * *

Pansy Parkinson read the letter while sipping her favorite French wine, a pop muggle song playing in the background from the stereo in her kitchen.

Intrigued by the upcoming event, she promptly typed her best friend's number on her smartphone and waited for her to pick up on her call.

When she did, she talked relentlessly and for so long that her dinner burned in the oven.

* * *

The owl reached Daphne Greengrass as she lied down, bathing in the sun of a beautiful beach in Santorini with her sister's company.

She quickly extended the invitation to his sister, and the two spent the remaining of their afternoon talking about what they should expect from the reunion.

* * *

On the other side of the world, Hermione Granger wondered why her past had decided to bite her back in the ass just now.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, everybody! This is how my new story begins.

I've been wanting to take my chance on the "Hermione is a Pureblood" trope since forever and now I'm finally ready to share with you the first chapter.

I hope you enjoy the story so far, and I can't wait to see you on the next update!

I'd also love for you to review and give a look at the blog I created for this fic, it took a lot of time and effort and I'm kinda proud of how it turned out lol. :)

 **update (05/18/19)** : _the much needed spacing has been added to this chapter. Sorry it took me so long to fix it, but since I decided to revision the first part of the story I thought it was worth it to do it properly and correct the other typos and mistakes scattered around.  
If I missed something (I bet on it), please send me a dm so that I can fix it_.


	2. BALL FOR ME

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

[ _**REVISIONED**_ : _**06** / **01** / **19**_ ]

* * *

 **2.**

 **BALL FOR ME**

.

" _when you comin' back? where is you at on the map?  
everything is intact, could have been a seamstress,  
still wouldn't cut him slack (…) back to you, I'm so into you_"

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, England,  
June 10_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003, around 17:40 p.m.)_**

* * *

As the time to leave for Hogwarts approached, members of the Malfoy family started to grow anxious.

Narcissa was rocking Adhara while pacing the room, her long-line figure wrapped in emerald silk.

The toddler in her arms was wearing similar garments, but hers were the color of ice. Out of the three people in the Manor's waiting room, her granddaughter was probably the only one who wasn't concerned about the upcoming evening.

Lucius had recently come home.

He was still paying his debt to society, both with his money and his wand, which was still in the Minister's possession. Once a month, Aurors would interview him to check on his behaviour and recent whereabouts with the administration of Veritaserum.

Tonight was Narcissa's first public apparition at an event of some importance since the end of war, as she'd preferred to avoid any social confrontation until Lucius' return.

There was a big chance the way they acted tonight was going to determine their social standing for the rest of their lives.

The entire wizarding society would be represented at the Hogwarts' reunion: Muggle-borns, members of the Order, war heroes, all people who would probably didn't spare them a second glance, but those who really concerned Narcissa were the Pure-bloods, the old friends who hadn't been caught by the Minister and who surely would give her family a tough time.

The disgrace they'd fallen into would not be forgiven.

On the other hand, she wasn't really sure it was a bad thing. Most of those people were horrific, and she didn't really mind putting as much distance between them as possible.

She hoped time could help her get a seat at the neutrals' table.

The witch sighed, glancing at Lucius, who was sitting by the bar with a glass of wine in his hands.

He must have felt her gaze, because he raised his head, then gestured to the bottles neatly piled in the shelves behind him. "I'll fix you one, if you want", he offered.

He did it with such hope in his eyes Narcissa found herself unable to say no. Things had been rather frosty since Lucius had returned home, but the witch was putting all her effort in making things work between them.

So, despite the fact she didn't really want the wine, the blonde accepted the glass he poured for her with shaking hands. Before passing her the glass, Lucius grabbed Adhara and adjusted her on his shoulder, gently cradling her in his arms.

When Draco arrived a couple minutes later, dressed to the nineties in a designer muggle suit, he blinked at the sight in front of him: his mother was hugging his father, who was also hugging his child, and wine was spilling from Narcissa's glass right on top of one of her favourite carpets.

He couldn't remember the last time his parents had looked so happy.

For a moment, Draco was tempted to stay at the Manor, have dinner with his family and give Narcissa one good memory before the unavoidable disaster: since his father had been released from Azkaban things had been tense between them, to say the very least; Lucius had accepted Adhara without questioning her muggle heritage, that was true, but was scared by his daughter's sudden affection for her grandfather.

He'd promised himself his father would never get a chance to hurt his daughter the way he'd hurt him, and he was ready to cut all ties to him if it proved to be necessary.

Adhara eventually broke the moment with an excited squeak when she spotted Draco standing next to the door. He hurried to pick her up.

Narcissa gave her husband a chaste kiss on the lips. "We'll be on our way now, darling. _Behave_ ", she said, smiling sweetly at the two blondes in front of her. Then she grabbed her husband's arm and dis-apparated both of them to Hogsmeade, where they would get the carriage for Hogwarts.

Draco and Adhara were going to reach the castle by floo, though, since he and Theodore had to check some final details and pay some last minute bills.

With a sigh, he adjusted the toddler in his arms and picked some floo powder with his free hand. "Hogwarts!", he shouted.

When they landed in McGonagall's office Theo was already there, pacing the room in his expensive Prussian blue suit.

Despite the fact they'd grown up together in a very _lavish_ environment, Draco had never seen him quite this polished.

He could understand way the party was so important to him, he was about to find the missing piece of his life, hopefully; he just couldn't picture why he seemed so frightened and desperate: things could only go better from now on, right? What was he so scared about?

Then it hit him.

Despite all their calculations, there was a massive chance their plan would _not_ work out.

They had prepared the best possible bait, but all they could do now was waiting.

"Hey, mate", he greeted Theo, who was alone in the Headmistress' office. The witch was probably in the Great Hall, already, barking some last minute orders around. "How do you feel?"

"It's nice to see you, Draco. I'm afraid I might jump out of my own skin at any moment now", he replied with honesty.

They weren't the type of friends who hugged a lot and made big statements, but the two wizards had been through some pretty heavy _shit_ together.

"You know what, Theo? _I think it'll be fine_ ".

Soon enough they rushed to the Great Hall, looking for the Headmistress.

Minerva McGonagall was standing on top of the stage that had been placed for the auction, giving the Elves her final dispositions for the refreshments that were to be served at the end of it.

"There you are, boys", she chirped. The witch was wearing a bright purple robe, with a matching ribbon made of a shiny fabric holding her chignon in place. "Guests will be arriving soon".

The long sleeves of her dress fluttered as she approached the trio, her attention quickly captured by the toddler who was holding Draco's hand.

"And who this young lady would be?", she asked, her brows slightly furrowed.

Adhara tried to hide herself behind Draco's legs, but her father kept her still with a gentle squeeze of her hand. "She would be my daughter", he gestured at the child, inviting her to introduce herself to the old witch. "Say _hello_ to Headmistress McGonagall, Adhara. She was my teacher", he explained.

The toddler waved her hand, positively beaming, but she didn't speak a word. Draco wasn't surprised, as Adhara still hadn't start talking properly. He could count the words on her vocabulary with his hands and even spare a few fingers, besides she had made up _all_ of them.

"Your child is lovely, Mr. Malfoy. I realize now why you were so keen on the party being extended to families", Minerva pointed out.

"I must confess she may have played a role in it, yes", he admitted.

"I'm sure Adhara will enjoy the special area we have prepared for the children. It's right there, not too far from the stage, so that parents can keep an eye on them if they wish to do so. The Elves will take care of them during the auction. If you'll now excuse me, I believe the first carriages left Hogsmeade a while ago. I will see you both later".

After she left, Draco walked Adhara to the children's area, reassuring her he'd be back very soon when she tried to make a fuss about him leaving, while Theo went straight to the bar to grab them something to drink.

They agreed on waiting for the room to fill up a little in a hidden portion of the Great Hall were the items that were going to be sold during the auction were stored.

A red curtain functioned as a wall between the party and the improvised storage room, and they carefully slipped in as the Headmistress was returning with the first two guests.

Since they were next to the entrance door, it was easy for them to pretend to have just been arrived.

Approximately forty minutes later, when most people were already there, Draco and Theodore stepped out of their hiding place, taking a closer look to the party they'd organized for the first time since their arrival.

So far, everyone seemed to be enjoying the gathering: everyone had their glasses full, nobody looked bored to death and soon enough the auction was going to begin.

Draco had been to a lot of events of that kind when he was younger, he knew they usually grew into people throwing off their money for the only purpose of showing other people that they could spend it.

This time the audience was different, however, because all kinds of people could make an offer.

From snooty Pureblood witches to middle-class Aurors, all sections of society would play a part.

"I think we should stop standing on the door and go say _Hi_ to some people. I suggest we try to go near the Weasley bunch, chances are my sister will be with _Potter &Co_ if she comes", Theo whispered, his hand nervously scratching the back of his head.

Draco nodded, ready to begin his tour and possibly go check on both Adhara and his parents, whom he hadn't seen yet but were supposed to have arrived at this point.

Then it hit him. "How do we know _what_ we are looking for?", he whispered back.

"I'm sorry, what? _Jeez_ , Draco, we went to school with her for six- _Oh_ ".

There was something they hadn't thought about, after all.

Were they sure they were going to _recognize_ Hermione Granger by merely seeing her?

Not only they were living testimony that five years could dramatically change one's appearance, as they were now both blessed with bodies their seventeen years old selves could only have dreamed about.

Cantankerus Nott had also mentioned in his letter something about placing a glamour charm over his daughter before leaving her with the muggles he'd chosen.

However, he had forgot to mention how heavily the spell was affecting her features, if it was targeting something specific, like the shape of her nose or the colour of her hair, but most of all for how long it would be standing.

Had it worn off yet? Was she still under its effect? A big question that only time could answer.

"I'm sure we'll figure it out", he tried to reassure his friend, whose sulk was dangerously close to reach the floor.

Draco hadn't seen her or thought about the girl for a very long time now, but he found it quite easy to conjure up a mental picture of her.

He couldn't explain why he remembered some details of her face so well, but as he quickly perused the room with his eyes, it became clear that the witch hadn't arrived. _Yet_.

He was confident the plan would work out, eventually; something inside of him told him that Theodore really needed this, it was the only thing that could have kept him from drowning into a job he despised.

McGonagall cleared her throat from her podium on the stage and announced the auction was about to begin.

He spotted Potter on the opposite side of the room, laughing at something Weasley had said.

Draco made a gesture to his friend, asking for him to follow.

They were unfortunately stopped on their track by Narcissa and Lucius, feeling powerless as they saw The-Chosen-One and his ginger sidekick leave their position while his mother engaged them in polite small talk.

Lucius looked like he wanted to disappear inside his drink, though Draco couldn't really blame him for it; disapproving glances were thrown at him from all directions, while those who greeted him did so with discretion, trying not to be caught by socializing with a convicted Death Eater.

Draco was no longer focused on the conversation, his eyes inspecting the figures of the young witches attending the gathering, when Theodore started tugging at his arm, urging him to leave as a baffled Narcissa asked for an explanation.

"The Headmistress asked for our help with… _Umh_ , with something", he blurted out, trying to sound as convincing as possible but only resulting in a babbling mess.

"Sure", the woman waved him off giving him an apprehensive look, clearly concerned about his odd behaviour.

Theo saw Potter ordering drinks in the corner of his eye, so that's where the pair went next.

They casually approached the wooden counter, then sat on the stools right in front of it.

"Two Firewhiskies", Draco ordered. "Potter", he casually greeted the man next to him with a bow of his head, pretending he had seen him just now.

"Malfoy", The-Boy-Who-Lived raised his green eyes to his face, then smirked and offered his hand. "It's nice to see you again".

Draco did the only thing he thought logical and shook it. "I'm sure you remember my friend here, Theodore Nott", he started introductions, but Potter interrupted him.

"Yeah, of course. Nice to see you too, Nott. It's been a while".

"Are you enjoying the evening so far?", Theo asked, though the glimmer in his eyes told Draco that he wasn't really interested in knowing. _Where is my sister?_ , seemed to be the question he was dying to ask.

Weasley coughed behind Harry's back, urging him to leave. He barely threw them a glance, acknowledging their presence with a nod of his head, then muttered something about looking for his wife and left. His wedding had been on all magazines the previous year and Draco had to admit that he was curious to see how much of Lavender Brown's appearance had been fixed on the pictures before printing. He didn't remember his schoolmate as pretty as he had seen her on the pages of Narcissa's copy of _WitchWeekly_ , but then he remember what muggles used to say about women being at their best on their wedding day, so he decided it would give it the benefit of the doubt.

"I think a reunion was much needed, actually. I've missed this place-"

"Sorry I had you waiting, Harry. The line at the ladies' loo was endless", a familiar voice got Draco out of his thoughts, and he stared, quite baffled, as Pansy Parkinson made her way through the crowd of people gathered to grab a drink before the beginning of the auction.

The witch stopped next to Harry, then grabbed his head in her hands and attacked his lips in a voracious kiss. The wizard's hands gripped her by the waist, gently pulling her away before he turned her around so that she could be face to face with them.

"Oh, hello boys", she sheepishly greeted.

At least it was clear why Ronald Weasley was so pissed off.

Draco was sure there was no way he could be cool with him dating Pansy of all people.

On the other hand, he didn't know if he was totally cool with Pansy dating Potter either. It was kind of weird.

Then he remembered that if Hermione Granger could be Theodore's twin sister, then anything was possible, even romance between those two; also, it wasn't really his responsibility or privilege to say to Pansy who she could or couldn't date.

Of one thing he was sure, though, he'd be damned if Adhara ever dated _Weasley_ 's offspring.

"Hello, Pansy. Didn't expect to see you here with Mr. Potter", Theo gently replied, clearly at a loss of things to say.

It wasn't everyday that you could find Slytherin's Princess and Gryffindor's Golden Boy going out on a date. Now that he thought about it, Draco realized that it wasn't their first date, just their first public appearance together, and he wondered for how long the two had being seen each other.

"I don't think we expected that either", Potter said, grabbing the drink the barman was handing to him and giving it to his date. "But I can and will say that I'm glad it happened".

"Oh, _Harry_ ", she chirped in response, "I'm glad it happened too".

"And that's our cue to leave", Draco stated when the happy couple started a shameless kissing session right in front of them once again. "See you later".

"Yeah, later. Bye", repeated Theo before they left the bar.

The two arrived at the auction when it was about to start, looked for their reserved seats and sat in the back of the room.

Draco spotted a couple of his former schoolmates in the rows of chairs in front of him.

Sitting in the first line, next to Neville Longbottom and apparently engaged in a very interesting conversation with him, were Gregory Goyle and Tracey Davis.

The couple had married a year before, and it was actually during their wedding that he'd gathered enough courage to finally talk to his former sidekick and apologized for his behaviour and commanding ways in the past years.

They'd started again from there, and though the two weren't as close as they'd once been, Draco very much preferred the mutual respect that had grown between them as adults rather than the obsequious, one-sided respect they'd shared as students.

There were still topics they couldn't talk about, Crabbe being on top of the list, but things were definitely better than when he'd first came back from his probation with muggles, as Gregory couldn't even stand to look at him in the face then.

Even though he hadn't been his closest friend, Blaise and Theodore already occupying that spot, Draco had come to appreciate the formerly chubby wizard. He was actually an interesting person to talk to, if given a proper chance.

Next to Longbottom, who like Gregory seemed to have gone through a _ugly duckling to swan_ metamorphosis, sat Luna Lovegood. She'd made quite the name for herself with her on-field researches on magical creatures and plants.

Pansy and Harry were not in sight, meaning they were probably sitting behind them.

He had time to spot the Patil twin who had been in Ravenclaw looking rather stunning in her midnight blue gown, before the noise of someone sitting in the chair next to him captured his attention.

The Greengrass sisters had just arrived.

Draco quickly kissed the hand of both witches, as did Theo, and then the Headmistress announced the beginning of the auction.

* * *

 ** _(Hogwarts: The Great Hall, Scotland,  
June 10_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003, around 19:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

"And now, one of the best pieces in tonight's collection", Minerva McGonagall said excitedly.

So far the offers had been so great the Headmistress had already decided in which parts of the castle she would spend the money first.

Narcissa Malfoy and Gisella Bones had fought about a very expensive set of china, which would eventually go home with the former, while most wizards in the room had made offers for a subscription to all Holyhead Harpies' games the next season, which both Ginevra Weasley and Cho Chang, as members of said team, had offered for the auction.

Three articles had been sold thus far and they'd already raised a million worth of Galleons.

Her gaze fell on the boys who had presented her the idea of the auction in the first place and she made a mental note of thanking them later.

Mr. Filch walked onto the stage with an ancient looking book in his hands, placing it in the glass case next to the podium.

"Ladies and gentleman, one of you tonight has made quite the generous offer. Let me introduce you to an original first edition of _Hogwarts: A History_ signed by Bathilda Bagshort herself. We'll start from ten thousand Galleons", she explained.

From his sit amongst the public Draco narrowed his eyes.

He remembered Granger's passion for that particular book, but what stunned him the most was the fact it was such a perfect bait. One he and Theodore hadn't placed, though.

Intrigued by the possibility of acquiring such a rare item, the blond quickly raised his hand, doubling Anthony Goldstein's offer.

The wizard turned his head to look at him for a second, a scowl on his face, but he ultimately didn't raise the price. He probably knew that, no matter what he did, Draco Malfoy could afford to pay more.

The blond was very pleased as he was about to win the auction by paying a very reasonable price, at least if you compared it to those paid by others for less valuable artefacts, but someone raised their hand from the first row of chairs.

It was the witch, whom he hadn't noticed before, that was sitting next to Luna Lovegood. Her shoulders looked strangely familiar. "One million Galleons", she offered, her tone emotionless.

He wasn't able to associate a face to her voice, but mentally cursed at her anyway.

He knew the game she was playing at, as he'd done the same thing to Anthony a few moments earlier, and he assumed she had to be very wealthy to throw off a similar amount over a book, no matter how precious or rare.

Draco sighed, mentally calculating if he could afford that show of cockiness. He came to the conclusion that yes, he definitely could, and a shiver of excitement ran down his spine.

Despite the fact he had changed to the point he sometimes questioned his own words and sentiments, Draco was still a Malfoy. And Malfoys loved winning.

"Two million Galleons", he shouted.

He could hear Theo's shocked gulp next to him and feel Astoria's questioning look burning one side of his face, but what he was really focused on was the long, delicate neck of his opponent slightly moving as she denied to raise her offer.

The rest of the auction went by in a blur for him.

He'd just spent two million Galleons on a book he hadn't bothered to read even when he was a student at the castle. At eleven years of age, when he'd first walked the grounds of the castle, he already knew about anything of importance about the school.

Like who he was supposed to talk to, and who he was supposed to harass.

Draco scowled. It wasn't the right time to think about the past.

Next to him, Daphne won an old golden brooch, which had allegedly belonged to Morgan herself.

It was supposed to bring good luck, and he did know how superstitious the witch was.

There had been one time, during their fifth year, when she'd discovered about the old Egyptian belief according to which owls meant bad news and it had took a month for her friends to convince her to go to lunch in the Great Hall on Mondays, when most of the mail was delivered.

Theodore slightly coughed, trying to get his attention, then pointed a finger towards their earlier hiding place. "We need to talk", he mouthed.

He gently brushed his lips against Daphne's crimson red ones before he left, leaving the witch baffled for his public display of affection while Draco wondered if there was any spark between the two of them at all.

Both his friends where really uptight when it came to their relationship, tough one year had passed since they'd announced their engagement and claimed they'd been together long before that.

It was none of his business, nor he was a good choice when it came to relationship advise, but something in the way they looked at each other simply didn't convince him.

Draco really wasn't the meddling type, so he said nothing as he'd done many times before.

If Theodore or Daphne ever felt the urge to hear his opinions they'd never said so.

"I'm afraid I'll have to leave you myself, too", he gently announced. "I need to check on my daughter and I also haven't seen my parents yet".

He was dismissed rather quickly, and did exactly what he had told them before he finally joined Theodore behind the red curtain once again. "Sorry, I had to see if Adhara was- Theo? Are you… _Are you crying_?"

He quickly rushed next to his oldest friend, but tried to leave him some personal space. It hadn't happened often to see him in such conditions, really just a handful of times, but Draco had learned how to deal with him, or at least to contain the damage.

Theo wasn't a big fun of physical contact, meaning hugs were almost always out of way, so he opted for a comforting hand firmly pressed on top of his shoulder.

That's when Draco noticed that he was shaking, too.

"It was useless, mate. It was completely, utterly useless", he murmured.

"It's not over. We are just halfway through the evening, and we can still put other plans into motion. It's not over yet", the blond replied.

"You don't understand", Theo argued, raising his reddened, wet eyes on his face. "I found Potter on my way here. I couldn't stop myself, so I asked him. He said he hasn't seen her. She hasn't come, mate".

"Merlin, but of course she did! She _had_ to! It's Hermione Granger you are talking about, Theo! She worshiped this school, there is no way she hasn't come tonight", Draco reassured him, though his words came out harsher than he'd planned.

"That's interesting", a third voice interrupted them.

The two Slytherins simultaneously turned their head, and identical scowls appeared on their faces when they recognized Harry Potter as he stepped out of the shadows.

It was a complication they really couldn't afford.

"Why would you of all people would be looking for Hermione, Nott? And why is Malfoy helping you?", he questioned.

Unlike Weasley, who was standing next to him looking as unfriendly as it was humanly possible, at least the Chosen One wasn't openly sneering.

"I don't have to explain myself to you", Theo sneered, defiantly, "I just want to talk to her".

"As you can see, she's not here. What's the matter?", Potter insisted.

Draco instantly compared him in his mind to a dog with his bone, but couldn't really blame him for his concern. It was only natural he'd be suspicious about the two of them asking about his missing friend.

He instantly regretted buying the book and not Morgan's brooch, none of this would have happened with some luck.

"Like I said to Weasley when I came to your office last year", Theo begun to explain, his hand nervously playing with the knot of his tie, "I just wanted to apologize to her for my past behaviour in her regards. I'm certainly not pleased to see it must have slipped his mind to tell you about it when you returned from your vacation".

"I don't give a shit if you're pleased", Ron barked in response before turning to Harry. "Sorry, bro. I completely forgot about it", he said.

"It's ok, Ron. He wouldn't have come to the Auror office to ask if he intended to cause her any harm", Harry replied, his posture slightly less stiff.

"Well, thank you for stating the obvious, Potter", Draco scoffed. "Now, if you'll excuse us-"

"I have one more question", the Auror stopped him, a victorious grin on his face.

Self preservation was what Slytherin were known for, and Draco didn't like feeling this cornered.

Nonetheless, he took a step back.

It wasn't his battle to fight. It was up to Theodore to decide their next move.

"I hope is a good one", he opted for the cocky attitude, but his smile froze when he heard Potter's question.

"The Headmistress was gushing about your generosity with the Minister not long ago, saying the idea of the auction was yours and that you also paid for everything. I was wondering wondering… _Why_?"

Theo moved so fast he didn't got a chance to stop him.

Very quickly four wands had been drawn and were now facing each other in couples.

Draco was baffled at both Aurors' reflexes, but did his best not to show it.

He'd only taken his to throw a Protego shield if things were to escalate.

"I have to remind you that your wands are raised against two Ministry's officials, if you don't lower them now we'll be forced to engage you in a duel and call for back-up. Things can turn very ugly very soon for the two of you", Potter warned them in neutral tone.

Theo lowered his arm and Draco followed shortly after, breathing a sigh of relief.

He couldn't allow his friend to throw his life away like that.

"Look, Potter. I've been looking for her for two years now. I want to talk to her, and I want to do it tonight. That's why I paid for the party. The school needed funding, I needed a place where I could talk to her without people thinking I'm trying to hurt her, because that's not what I'm doing", Nott spoke slowly, articulating each sentence with no rush.

Draco could tell from the look on his face that he was about to explode.

"And all of this to say you're sorry about a childish rivalry and some tasteless pranks? It seems a bit exaggerated, don't you think?", Potter asked.

"You wanna know what it looks like to me, Harry?", Weasley backed him off. " _Creepy_ ".

"Ron, _I don't think-_ ", Potter tried to do damage control, but it was too late.

All Theodore could see was red.

There was blood in his hand when he pulled back his arm after punching Weasley's nose.

" _Fuck_!", he hissed. "You know what? I'll tell you".

Draco's eyes widened, but before he could jump in and do anything, the truth was already revealed.

" _She is my sister_. _Hermione Granger is my fucking sister_ ".

Two thuds followed his confession.

The first one Draco quickly associated to Potter losing his grip on Weasley because of the shock, resulting in the ginger-headed wizard falling unceremoniously on his bum.

The second thud came from behind them, so they all simultaneously turned their heads in that direction.

" **Sorry, I'm your- _WHAT?_** "

* * *

 **Author's notes**.

Hello, everybody! Hope you enjoy the second chapter. :)

I would very quickly like to thank **KiwiVirion** & **keikei313**  
for their reviews, I really appreciated them.

When I first started plotting this story the first few chapters  
were going to focused only on Theodore, as he's one of the  
main characters of the story, but then I decided that  
there are a lot of things that I want to make happen in  
this story, so my female protagonist should probably  
be introduced sooner rather than later.

Remember to visit the blog I created for the story and if you  
have enjoyed the story so far, please, consider leaving a review! :)


	3. WITHOUT ME

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

[ _**REVISIONED**_ : _**07** / **09** / **19**_ ]

* * *

 **3.**

 **WITHOUT ME**

.

" _now this looks like a job for me, so everybody, just follow me  
'cause we need a little controversy, 'cause it feels so empty without me (…)  
feel the tension soon as someone mentions me_"

* * *

 _ **(Hogwarts: The Great Hall, Scotland,  
June 10**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2003, around 21:45 p.m)**_

* * *

The wizard's words echoed in her mind a couple of times.

 _She is my sister. Hermione Granger is my fucking sister._

There wasn't much to misunderstand in such a simple statement: it was direct and precise, leaving no room for loopholes or withdrawals.

Hermione blinked. Twice. "Sorry, I'm your- _WHAT?_ "

She hid her mouth behind her hands the very second the question left her lips, but it was already too late: she'd exposed her presence.

"Hermione!", both her old friends shouted at the same time. "Is it really you?", added Ron, who was still smeared on the floor, when he looked her up in the face and noticed the obvious differences in her features.

She had been surprised, too, almost five years earlier, when she'd woken up and she couldn't recognize the witch in the mirror: nothing drastic had happened as far as her bone-structure was concerned, leaving her with completely manageable higher cheekbones and a slightly smaller nose, but her eyes were a completely different story.

She was used to warm, brown chocolate staring back at her, not the giant sapphires she had now become completely comfortable with.

Hermione had taken the first available flight for Australia as soon as she'd recovered from the Battle of Hogwarts, with the whole metamorphosis happening shortly after her arrival, at night, leaving her even more scared and vulnerable than finding her parents had.

She'd succeeded in reversing the Memory Charm on Jane and William Granger only to discover another had been previously put on them.

Hermione remembered quite vividly the pain in her chest when her mother had recovered from the counter spell and started crying the death of her child.

At first, she believed something had gone wrong, and maybe muggle minds weren't suited for such strong enchantments.

Then she'd realized what was really happening: Jane wasn't her birth-mother.

She could have honestly been fine with that, if the woman hadn't started cursing at her, yelling something about a middle-aged man with a stick – which she'd lately figured out was, indeed, a wand – who had compelled them to take her in and believe she was their own.

Her father's reaction had been more composed, but still bitter to swallow.

He'd explained to her what had happened to the real Hermione, these had been his words, how she'd prematurely died in an accident while the family was out for the day.

He told her about the weird man who'd come to their home, but he didn't really remember much of their conversation.

All he knew was that when he left their grief was gone, replaced by a young child to take care of.

Like nothing had happened to their daughter.

Hermione shook her head, it wasn't the right time to dwell on painful memories.

Arms crossed on her chest, she arched one of her perfectly trimmed eyebrows when she noticed for the first time what really was happening in the room.

Ron was now starting to raise from the floor, his hands clenched in two fists, while Harry was standing on his feet, clearly confused.

Her alleged brother and another man, whom she recognized with a well-hidden gasp to be Draco Malfoy, were cornered, their backs facing the wall.

The haunted look in their eyes reminded her of wild animals in muggle zoos.

" _I- umh... Well_ -", she stuttered. " _Wow_ ", she added, mentally cursing her temporary loss of any communication skills.

The witch's thoughts were all over the place, but she realized just now that her focus had been on Theodore's face the whole time, and particularly on his big, blue eyes which were so similar to those she'd begrudgingly learnt to accept on herself.

Her first reaction had been one of utter dismay. Nott's declarations were just absurd.

What were the odds of the two of them being siblings?

It was simply ludicrous.

But then she remembered what her father had told her about her _forced_ _adoption_ from the Grangers, which she had also checked in his head with _Legilimency_.

She hadn't particularly liked the idea of prying in someone's mind like that, but she knew the spell and her thirst for knowledge had needed to be satisfied.

She'd been released from William's memories more confused than when she had entered, the face of the man going somehow missing in a blurry mess, but that was the place when she'd first seen those eyes on someone that wasn't herself.

Or so she'd thought, considering she'd went to school with Theodore for six years.

Nonetheless, the more she analyzed what she'd just heard and the less crazy it all sounded.

She shook her head, trying to regain some control over her own mind. "Theodore?", she called.

His eyes had been fixed on the floor for quite some time now, like he was almost scared of even _looking_ at her, but he lifted his head in a snap when he heard his name.

She couldn't help but giving him a small smile. "Perhaps we should have that talk you've gone such lengths to gain. Helping the school with the rebuilding was very nice of you".

 _Yup, she had heard that, too_. She had actually eaves-dropped on the entire conversation.

Hermione had followed Harry and Ron when she had spotted them going after the Slytherins, finding it odd, but she'd never expected the cards on the table to take such a wild turn.

She was feeling slightly dizzy, but that she blamed on the various Port-keys she'd taken to reach first the UK and then Scotland. Going to the reunion had actually been a last minute impulse of twelve hours before now, something her gut had simply compelled her to do.

"I would love to have that talk to you", he quietly replied, his expression slightly less tense. "If that's okay with your friends", he then gestured to Harry and Ron, who were watching the exchange with very similar frowns.

It probably felt even more surreal to them, as they hadn't seen her in five years and therefore knew nothing of her mysterious and, most of all, magic-related adoption.

"It surely is okay with yours, Theo", Draco said before doing something that surprised her: he put both his hands on the sides of Theodore's frame, pulling him into a tight hug.

He whispered something in his ear before greeting her friends with a small nod of his head. Hermione expected him to leave the room without even acknowledging her presence and just be his usual obnoxious self, but instead Draco Malfoy stopped long enough to smirk at her and blow off a charming " _Nice to meet you again_ " on his way out.

"Let's go have a drink", she suggested.

Theodore didn't look like he was feeling too well, so she rushed to him and grabbed his hand, leaving the room before neither Harry nor Ron could say the first syllable in _Gryffindor_.

Hermione dragged him all the way to the bar with Nott acting like a dead corpse, a task which wasn't really easy considering how high the heels on her feet were.

Somehow she managed to find an empty table and left him to wait as she ordered the drinks.

The witch returned with a tray full of different glasses, placing it on the table before taking her seat. "I didn't know what you like", she said with a shrug.

Theodore remained silent, his hands crossed under his chin.

"So… I'm here now. _Talk_ ", she demanded.

It probably came out bossier that she'd have liked, but it didn't really matter to her. She _was_ bossy.

The wizard grabbed a shot of FireWhisky, throwing it all the way down his throat in a single gulp. "I don't know where to start", he admitted, quietly.

"Start from the beginning, then", she prompted, choosing a glass of aged Elf-wine for herself, tasting it with a small sip before she took a much larger one.

"I started looking for you two years ago. It was the fifteenth of March", Theo said.

"What happened on the fifteenth of March?", she asked, genuinely curious.

"My father- _Our_ father died", he coldly stated.

" _Our_ father, you say. What makes you think he was my father, too?", Hermione pressed.

She wasn't willing to consider such absurd allegations without a shred of proof.

"He left me a letter. I'll let you read it if you want to. He wrote one for you too, actually. I didn't bring it with me because I wasn't sure you would show up, but..."

"I wasn't going to", she reassured him. "I changed my mind last minute. Well, as last minute as it can be with international travelling. Did _your_ father say something about me in his letter?"

Theo nodded. "I always knew I had a sister. A _twin_ , to be precise. Our parents told me before I was five. They said that _she-_ I mean, _you_. They said _you_ were dead before you were even born".

Hermione snorted. "I feel very much alive, thank you".

His facial features hardened a little, leading her to the decision of keeping her sarcasm to herself. At least for now.

"Obviously, they were lying. I'm sure you already know what was our father's role in the war. It turns out the Dark Lord wasn't kind to his followers, but they realized that when it was too late. According to his words, of course, which my experience classify as not always being worthy of trust. He started asking for money, properties, ancient artefacts, but everyone was still too brainwashed to do something. Then he crossed the line and he started asking for their children".

"That's disgusting", she scowled. "What did he need the children for?"

"Nurturing his next generation of lackeys, I suppose. The Carrow twins turned out pretty good, if you're into nurturing a psychopath serial killer", he shrugged.

"Most Death Eaters were psychopath serial killers. Have they all been nurtured by Voldemort?", she asked with equal nonchalance.

She didn't like the direction their conversation was heading to.

 _She couldn't be the daughter of a Death Eater, could she?_

"No, they haven't", he conceded. "Look, I'm not trying to justify anything that happened. Father deserved to go to prison. You collect what you sow, right? That's _him_ ".

Hermione didn't reply, merely giving him a pointed look as she sipped her second glass of Elf-wine.

Maybe she'd been too prejudiced, at least in Theodore's regards. This _alleged_ father was a completely different story.

"I was born first, but I was very sick. I couldn't breathe, or something along that line. Nobody really bothered to tell me the specifics. That's when you came into the picture, completely unannounced".

"They didn't know they were expecting _twins_?", Hermione gasped.

Despite the fact she still couldn't imagine herself as the baby he was talking about, Hermione found herself more and more intrigued by his narration. It was just like reading a book in her library at home, though the wine was a little cheaper than what she'd grown accustomed to.

"Nope. I can't imagine their surprise. I don't have any details about this either, but he said something about your magic basically saving my life. _Thank you_ , I suppose".

"You're welcome", she mused. "Do you think Voldemort had a particular fascination with twins? Maybe there's something different in the core of their magic, or the way it reacts to impulses".

Theodore was clearly taken aback by her questions, which where obviously on the more scientific, matter-of-factly side.

She hadn't been able to stop herself from blurting out her theories, eager to find the answer.

The wizard regained his composure rather quickly. "Maybe", he repeated, a hand running through his short, dark hair. She noticed it looked like it would probably be curly if given the possibility to grow long enough. "He said they couldn't keep both of us", he murmured.

Hermione could see the flash of guilt that passed in his eyes, and wondered just how much his family, specifically his father, had hurt the poor soul in front of her.

"Look, Theodore. There's no need to feel sorry for me. You were a baby, nothing of this is on you", she urged to say.

"But it is. I was the sick one, that's why they had to keep _me_ ", he argued.

"Then I'm the one who should feel sorry, Theodore. I clearly had a better childhood than you did", she said, and sat straighter on her seat, ready to leave as soon as she felt like it. "But that's why I can't be your missing sister, I had a childhood. With my muggle parents". _My muggle parents whom had been compelled to adopt me and treat me as their own while forced to forget about their own dead child by a wizard._ But she didn't say that. "I should probably go now".

"Hermione, let me finish, please. Let me finish and then you'll be able to leave, if you still want to. _Please_ ", he pleaded.

The tenderness in his voice glued her to the chair.

"The last part of his letter included details on how I could find my sister if I wished to do so. He said it was our mother's idea to hide you with muggles. If anyone happened to find out about your existence they wouldn't have thought of looking there. Apart from that, not many Death Eaters were skilled enough to operate in the muggle world without breaking the Statute of Secrecy and getting caught. He found Jane and William Granger on a muggle paper. They were mourning the loss of their daughter, Hermione. Is everything correct, so far?"

With that, the puzzle was finished against her will.

Her eyes were empty as she re-lived the way Jane had looked at her after she'd gotten her memories back.

She'd accused her of killing her daughter _twice_.

Only another person had managed to make her feel such pain and that person was Bellatrix Lestrange.

"Oh, my, God", she gasped.

"Yeah. That was the same reaction I had. I was worried it could take a lot to get a grip on this whole _twins_ thing, but maybe we're naturally gifted", he mused.

Hermione arched her brow. " _Whatever_. Can I ask you a question?"

She didn't wait for his " _Sure_ " to start speaking again. "Why did you look for me?"

"What do you mean?"

"Your father said that you could find me if you wished to do so. Did you?"

"You're the brightest witch of our age. What do you think?"

"I think that I'd rather have _you_ to answer this question".

"Fine, but then I'll get to ask you one".

"We have a deal". They sealed it with a shake of their hands.

"I always felt awful that I made it out alive and you didn't. It was so unfair. My parents were so sad after losing you that I started to feel like I had _killed_ you".

"Oh, dear", she murmured, eyes getting unexpectedly watery at the confession.

With time she'd managed to strain her tendency to cry easily, at least when she was in public, but the loneliness he had painted with his words simply broke her emotional walls.

She didn't make a fool herself by patting her cheeks with the napkin her brother handed to her.

She stopped with her hand at mid-air, shocked by her own thought. It was the first time she'd allowed the word to cross her mind since they'd started talking and it felt terribly premature.

He _was_ her brother, though.

Hermione knew very few things about the wizard in front of her, and the things she knew where buried deep five years back in her life.

She didn't indulge too often in memories about her life at Hogwarts. She didn't want to think about the war.

"You're my brother", she said.

He chuckled. "Yeah, that I am. And you're my sister".

"I have a brother", she repeated. "I've always been a only child".

"Well, me too. I mean, I knew about you but I never met you. Well, at least I didn't know about it", he replied.

"What happened to driving yourself crazy over my death?", she dryly joked.

"I had friends who cared enough to help me snap out of it. Do you wish I was driving myself crazy over your death?", he casually asked.

"Of course not. It was just a joke", she scowled.

"Anyway, I'm your brother".

"Yeah, I think we already agreed on that". _Begrudgingly, on her part_.

"Let me finish. I'm your brother. Did I need another reason to look for you?"

"I suppose it actually depends on the idea of family you were taught", she mused, but changed her course when she saw the pointed look he was throwing at her with his piercing blue eyes. "Well, then. I suppose you answered my question".

"My turn", Theodore announced. "I don't want to put any pressure on you or anything, but I really want to be forward with you, Hermione. I'm excited that I have finally met you properly. I'm not saying that you need to trust me right away, or move to the Manor with me, or buy me gifts for Christmas or bullshit, but- My question is and please, be honest with me: are you willing to give this a try? I'm just asking for a chance to know you. I understand if you want nothing to do with me, but believe me when I say that I never believed in _Pureblood shit_. Some of my closest friends did, but none of them still does. Like I said to Weasley when I went asking about you, I really feel like I should apologize for all the times Draco or the others said something to you and I didn't stand against it. I hope it's clear that I'm not saying it because you are my sister, but because I should have done it for everyone. They were mean to you and I looked the other way. For that I am sorry, Hermione".

" _It's- That's-_ It doesn't matter anymore. Those things belong in the past and that's where I'm planning to keep them. But talking about your friends, I do have a question about _Pureblood shit_ ", she clumsily replied to her apology.

His words had moved her, though.

"Can you promise me that our father didn't sold me like some cow to be the child bride of some Pureblood asshole, right?"

"Wait, what? In what year do you think we live?"

"You can never know with your folks. I had direct experience of some pretty old traditions. Your bigotry really scared me while I was student here".

"Eventually, you'll discover that I am as modern as a Muggle-born, despite my _pedigree_ ", he promised. "And I have lived with muggles, by the way, so I could guess most of your opinions on actuality topics".

"So, that's a no, right? You no longer do that?"

"Someone does", Theodore shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "But they're a bunch of old wizards whose minds have clearly stopped working a long time ago. Sadly, most of them have a seat on the Wizengamot", he added.

"That's awful", she cringed. "I suppose your answer is no, then".

"Not exactly", he muttered.

She sent daggers at him with her eyes.

"Our father and Lucius were planning on arranging a contract between you and Draco, _why_ they would do that goes beyond my comprehension since they both married for love. Anyway, they never agreed on a price for your release clause. Regardless, our mother would have never allowed for you to marry someone you didn't choose".

Hermione suddenly felt cold, with shivers running down her spine.

Her dress left her back completely exposed and she could feel the tiny goose-bumps forming on the surface of her skin where the silk of her gown failed to cover it. It was a rather sophisticated design, with multiple cut-outs and overlaps of fabric in strategic points.

The black dress accentuated the curves of her body, but it flattered her without revealing too much.

It had also proven to be the right choice, since she'd been forced to physically sustain her brother from the storage room to the bar. On high heels, too.

"Why would he want the marriage so badly?", she asked.

"Because you're a Nott. Our blood shines just as much as his does. You and Draco together would produce the heir of two powerful, ancient houses who never mixed before. Our family came from Germany, while the Malfoys came from France many centuries ago. It never happened that our families had two compatible people to arrange a marriage. Girls are very rare in both our family trees", Theo explained.

They'd finished all drinks by now and she didn't find the courage to look at the hour on the telephone in her hand-purse.

"I think we should head back to the party now", she proposed uncomfortably.

She didn't want to break the atmosphere, but they were in the middle of the crowd and they had most likely missed supper. Besides, Hermione was _famished_ and slightly high from the drinking.

Theo nodded, then raised up and offered her his hand. She took it without hesitation, interlacing her arm with his.

She raised on her tippy-toes to whisper in his ear and avoid people passing by to catch up on their conversation. "I would like to know you, too".

They walked back to the middle of the party, where most guests had already finished eating. Many of them were heading in their opposite direction.

"What are we going to say when people see us together? If we don't come up with something they'll just assume we are dating or something, and though you're handsome, that's honestly _gross_ to see in a paper, since we are related", she sighed.

"You think I'm handsome?", he asked with a smirk.

"Don't push it", she warned him.

"What if we just say the truth?", he proposed.

Hermione thought about it for a second, before she beamed at him. "I like how you're thinking", she approved. "I don't need any more secrets".

"Maybe someday you'll share some of them with me".

"Maybe. But only if you'll share some of yours as well".

* * *

They met Ginny Weasley and Blaise Zabini on their way to the buffet.

The unlikely pair was busy in an animated conversation, the witch laughing at something the dark-skinned wizard had just said. Though unexpected, the match seemed quite on point to Hermione.

"Hello, Ginny", she greeted with a big smile on her face.

She'd realized how much she'd missed her red-headed friend only when she'd seen the familiar features of her face.

" _Hello, Gin?_ ", she hissed. "You disappear for five years and all you have to say to me is _hello, Gin_?" Then she literally jumped at Hermione, engulfing her in a tight hug. "Merlin, I missed you too, little witch".

"I missed you, too, Ginny". It was the truth. "Hello, Zabini".

"Welcome back, Ms. Granger. It's nice to see you again", he replied, politely.

She knew that he was staring at her eyes, trying to remember if they'd always been like that, but when he eventually shrugged and kept his doubts to himself, Hermione really appreciated it.

Ginny wasn't on the same page, though. "What the fuck has happened to your eyes, Hermione? Are some of those muggle squishy things that can change your eye-colour?", she chirped.

"No, that's not the case here. I woke up one morning five years ago and that's what they looked like. End of story. No explanation whatsoever", Hermione promptly told her. "Until tonight, at least".

Ginny pinched her on the hip. " _C'mon_ , ' _Mione_! Spill it".

"Fine", she conceded with a sigh, but before she could talk Theo, who was standing on her left, interrupted her.

"She's my sister. My parents hid her with the muggles so that Voldemort wouldn't take us. I've known this for two years, but she only find out about it tonight".

"Not exactly. I didn't know you were brother, but I did know my muggle parents weren't my biological parents. Someone had charmed them to take me in and forget about the daughter they had previously lost. Anyway, with time I came to the conclusion that these", she gestured at her eyes, "Rather suit me".

Ginny observed her for a couple of seconds, a pensive look on her face. "Yeah, I think they do".

Hermione didn't listen to Blaise and Theodore's exchange of pleasantries, she was busy scanning the room for two familiar people.

She felt like she needed to give some kind of explanation to her friends, and she hoped they could go past the confrontation moment and enjoy the evening together.

She had a flight to catch the morning after and she was determined to get a couple hours of sleep.

"I simply must go looking for Harry and Ron now", she said.

"Fine, _go_ ", Ginny murmured before she pulled her into another hug. "But promise me you won't disappear again, alright?"

"I promise. I can't now that I've seen you", she sincerely admitted.

Maybe it was time part of her life returned to England. She may now be a woman with no identity except for the character she'd built for herself, but London was still her home.

"We'll have dinner together before the end of the month".

"Deal", the red-haired witch murmured. "Send me an owl".

"I don't think that's possible. I don't live in this continent", Hermione sighed. "Do you happen to have access to a muggle telephone?"

"I think my father has something in his barn, but I'm not sure if it was that or a television", Ginny mused.

"I have one. She can use mine, just accord on a time and a place. If you're up to it, I can even pull off a video-call, Granger", Blaise proposed. The wizard was definitely as cocky as he was handsome, but his offer was actually really handy.

"That would be great. Two days from now at five p.m. could do?", she asked.

Hermione agreed, then quickly departed from the couple.

She'd thought she'd seen Ron's ginger hair not far away from them and she wanted a chance to properly greet her friend.

She was right. When they reached Ronald and his wife, who were talking to Parvati Patil and her date for the night, Anthony Goldstein, Hermione soon discovered the two wizards worked together as Aurors, but she was quite taken aback by Ronald's cold attitude.

Even Lavender, who had always her biggest hater inside the Gryffindor tower, had been warmer, though on the defensive.

She didn't miss the periodic scowl that Padma kept throwing at her sister, precisely at her hands, which were playing with Anthony's half-covered by her gown.

It turned out Parvati had become a model and while Hermione thought it actually suited her character, she personally had always preferred Padma's more wild-ish beauty.

"It's nice to see you, Ron", she tried after a few minutes of awkward silence.

"Yeah", he muttered with his mouth hidden behind his glass of butterbeer.

Hermione narrowed her eyes. "Can I talk to you for a second? In private?"

He seemed to be thinking about it for a while, but eventually he agreed.

Ron stepped a few feet back.

"What do you want?", he asked dryly.

"You're not happy to see me". It wasn't a question, but a statement.

"Honestly? I don't fucking understand what's going on. Of course I'm happy to see you, but first I get punched in the face at the fucking school reunion, and then you leave with the guy who punched me. I don't understand, 'Mione".

"He really is my brother", she told him.

Ron didn't bother to hide his shock. He hadn't believed it for a second coming from Nott's lips, but he was convinced the second it was _her_ speaking the same truth. In his book, Hermione was no liar.

He talked after a while. "Then I believe you have a lot of things to sort out. I'll welcome you back when I'll be sure that you'll be back forever, okay?"

Hermione felt tears prickling in her eyes, but she still nodded her agreement.

"Now I should probably go back to my wife. See you around".

Ron left her alone and when he turned to see the point where Lavender, Parvati and Anthony were supposed to be standing, she noticed that only Theo was now standing there, hands in his pockets and a look on his face that displayed no emotions.

"They left you alone?", she asked.

He shrugged. "I don't care".

It made sense for a Slytherin not to treasure Lavender Brown's company.

Neither did she, and she was a Gryffindor, but it pissed her off the way they'd just left him to stand on his own.

"Me neither", she reassured him.

"There's Potter", Theo pointed at him with his finger.

They rushed in that direction.

Hermione was excited: she hadn't seen Harry in years and she'd missed him more than she could ever express with words. " _Harry_!", she grinned at him.

Soon she was engulfed in her best friend's arms. "Hermione! Don't disappear on me ever again", he admonished her.

"Yeah, I'm- I'm sorry, Harry. I promise I'll tell you everything".

"It's a date. I have a lot to share, too. It's been kind of hard making my decisions without my best adviser next to me, you know?"

Hermione sighed, squeezing him one last time before letting go.

"I saw Ginny earlier. She was, _umh-_ She was here with someone else", she tried.

She knew nothing about what had happened between her friends, but she was sure something had.

She'd honestly expected them to attend the party together.

"Yeah, she's here with her boyfriend", Harry confirmed, a peaceful smile on his lips.

"And you're ok with that?", she asked.

"Yeah, I guess so. Otherwise my girlfriend wouldn't be ok with me", he chuckled. "Ginny and I broke up last year, 'Mione. But it's fine, we are still friends".

"I'm glad to hear that", she chirped, then gestured to Theodore, who had been standing next to her in uncomfortable silence until now. "This is Theodore Nott. Apparently, he's my… He's my brother, Harry".

"It's true, then?", he asked, an amused smile playing on his lips. "Well, that's… unexpected. _Congratulations_ , I suppose".

"You're really don't mind?", a bewildered Theo inquired.

"Why would I? Nobody chooses their family", Harry replied. "And it's nice to have one, at the end of the day. Hermione has always been one of the biggest parts of mine, so I must warn you that you better not mess with her. _Ever_ ".

Hermione blushed slightly but didn't intervene. She could concede her friend a little display of testosterone after five years of being apart on her choice.

"Yeah, don't worry, Potter. I'll treat her like the princess she is".

The arrival of another guest distracted her just enough to stop her cheeks from getting even more flushed.

The witch grabbed Harry's hand, intertwining their fingers together.

Hermione took her time to observe Pansy Parkinson's appearance.

She'd cut her hair shorter than the last time she'd seen her. Her lean body was wrapped in military green and the vertiginous heels made her look even taller than she already was. She was actually taller than Harry right now, and she reached almost Theo's nose with her forehead. Despite her 5 inches heel, Hermione felt incredibly short with the 5'3 feet of height.

"Hermione!", the dark-haired witch squeaked. "What are you doing here?"

She cocked an eyebrow at her. "What do you mean?"

"You said you wouldn't come, you liar!"

"You already know each other?", both wizards asked simultaneously.

Pansy scoffed. "We went to school together for six years. Of course we know each other, guys".

"You know what I meant", Theo reprimanded. "You have been talking to each other recently, since you talked about tonight. I don't remember the two of you been exactly friends".

Hermione took a deep breath, then shared a look with the witch in front of her. "Yes, we know each other. Intimately", she confessed. "I'd been in Australia for almost a year when she jumped into the place I worked at. We've been stuck together ever since. We also lived together until she returned to England, so can I please now give her a hug or isn't the interrogation over yet?"

The former Gryffindor witch didn't wait for a reply before she threw her arms around Pansy's neck, tightly pulling her friend to her chest.

"I missed you", she whispered in her ear.

Pansy was beaming when she pulled off, while Harry and Theo were studying each other without saying a word.

"It's cool you're already friends", Harry mused. "I tried to introduce Pansy to the Weasleys, before".

"And do tell, Harry. How did that go?", Hermione inquired.

"I really don't know, ' _Mione_ ", he replied with a shrug, "Nobody insulted her or said anything mean, but… Nobody really welcomed her into the family, either. I know it sounds crazy, but the only one who's happy for us is Ginny".

"I'm sure she's not the only one, Harry. Maybe they need some time to come around. They don't know Pansy as much as you do, I'm sure they'll eventually warm up to her", she tried to comfort him, though she wasn't really sure of what she was saying. "I saw Ronald, earlier. He wasn't very welcoming to me, too".

Harry tried to hide his chuckle behind the glass on his left hand.

"What?" She narrowed her eyes.

"Nothing", he chirped, then threw a quick glance in Pansy and Theodore's directions, suggesting he would answer her question only in private.

Hermione was about to propose they went closer to the buffet so that she and her brother could finally eat something when a new group of guests approached.

She felt slightly dizzy when she spotted four heads of pale blond hair, but her mind quickly recovered as soon as she noticed the odd number.

 _Four Malfoys_?

Lucius and Narcissa were arm in arm as they swiftly strolled around the Great Hall. They'd been deeply disgraced after the war, but somehow they still had the ability of walking around like they owned the place.

For the second time that night, Hermione's gaze fell on Draco Malfoy's figure.  
Saying he was changed couldn't do the trick, because the only thing left of the pointy teenager she'd once knew was the colour of his hair and eyes, of which a perfect replica could be found on the toddler in his arms.

 _Did Narcissa and Lucius had another child? Or was it Draco's?  
_  
She managed to contain her curiosity and put a fake smile on her face.

Narcissa spoke first. "Good evening", she generally greeted, not sure who to address first. Her son's friends or the _Chosen One_? "Pansy, I haven't seen you in years. You grew up beautifully", she complimented.

"Thank you, _Narcissa_. You're still the most elegant witch in the room".

The woman smiled, then turned her attention to Theodore. "How are you, Theodore? It's nice to see you, too".

Hermione found odd the warm smile her brother gave to the Malfoy matriarch.

Like she was family.

 _Was she_? Theo had said that their families had never mixed, but maybe it had happened in the Black's side of the family.

She hoped that wasn't the case.

"Well, I think that from now on my life can only get better", he politely replied, grabbing Hermione by the waist and squeezing her next to him.

It was obvious what he was trying to do. He was making a statement.

"I see, you're here in the lovely company of-", Narcissa's smile died on her lips when her gaze left her blue eyes and focused on what made Hermione familiar. " _Ms. Granger_?", she stuttered.

"Flesh and _blood_ ", she dryly joked.

The alcohol made her bold enough to wink at the couple, and she heard Harry poorly trying to hide his chuckle.

"I haven't seen you in a while, Ms. Granger", Lucius chimed in for the rescue.

Theodore and Harry moved in a similar fashion, taking a step ahead to cover Hermione's figure with theirs.

She scoffed. Lucius Malfoy had stopped scaring her a long time before.

"She's my sister", Theo said.

" _Another gift from Voldemort_ ", she added, darkly.

Pansy politely coughed behind her hand, trying to diffuse some of the tension. "I see you wore the dress I made for you", she casually said, pointing her finger to Hermione, even though it had been years since the witch had attended a formal event sporting something that hadn't been designed by her. "My sales are going to double".

"It's a lovely piece", Narcissa admitted. "What is it that you do for a living, Pansy? I'm afraid Draco has never mentioned".

Pansy stiffened imperceptibly. "Most of my job requires organizing parties for very rich wizards and witches, but recently I've been working on another project. I grew up with Daphne and Astoria at the Greengrass Mason, and I always liked the idea of creating my personal line of apparel. With Hermione wearing one of my creations at a public event, my pop-up shop will probably sold out by the end of the week".

"You have your own shop?", Lucius inquired, clearly uncomfortable in his current position.

Hermione wondered why they'd come to chat.

She knew that Theodore and Pansy were friends of Draco, but she didn't expect them to be in such good terms with the older Malfoys.

The witch had never been particularly close to the parents of her muggle friends, after all, and even with Arthur and Molly Weasley she'd always kept some distance.

Parents had been something irreplaceable in her mind when she was younger. She wondered what Pansy and Theodore's childhood had been like if they'd turned to Lucius and Narcissa.

"I have two, actually", Pansy chirped. "A small one in Diagon Alley, which is temporary and already open, and a much bigger one that will open after the end of summer. I'll invite you to the opening, of course", she promised.

Then the dark-haired woman then stole Adhara from Draco's arms, gently rocking her. "How is my favourite girl?"

Hermione looked at her friend playing with the toddler and couldn't stop smiling when she noticed just how happy the child seemed to be in Pansy's arms. "She's very beautiful", the words left her mouth before she could block them.

"Thank you, Granger", Draco grinned. "My greatest accomplishment so far".

Further conversation was prevented by the Headmistress, who went back on the stage once more. "Hogwarts is very pleased to announce that we've raised almost 20 million Galleons with tonight's auction. We'll start planning the castle's reparations tomorrow morning", Minerva announced. "Also, I would like to personally thank the anonymous donor of an additional 10 million Galleons".

The guests gasped at the Headmistress' last sentence and soon people started whispering theories about the mysterious witch or wizard behind the donation.

"I wonder who would donate that kind of money and stay anonymous", Theodore mused. "It's an absurd gift in times like this".

"It was definitely a generous gift", commented Lucius, who however did his best not to sound impressed. The days where he could pull off such gestures were long gone now.

"Indeed", Hermione agreed, a fake smile still plastered on her face. She squeezed Theodore's arm, slightly stepping away from the rest of the group. "It's getting late for me. I think I should probably go now".

"Stay a little longer, Hermione", Nott pleaded. "I'm sure there are more people you want to talk to".

"Lucius Malfoy wasn't my first choice, that's for sure", she snorted.

"Yeah, sorry 'bout that. Narcissa is my _god-mother,_ I couldn't ignore them".

"It's not a problem", Hermione conceded. She was still very tired, though, with a flight to catch early in the morning and a much fancier party to attend to by night. "But I really want to leave now. Tomorrow will be an eventful day for me and I still need to process the things I discovered tonight. I'll keep in touch with you. Here, this is my number. Do you have access to a telephone?"

"Not really, but- I know how to use it. I'll just buy one".

"I'll send you one", Hermione counter-offered. "Tell Blaise or Ginny to let me have your address when they call".

Theo nodded. "Fine. When can I see you again?"

"That's why I'm getting you a phone. I'll let you know as soon as I get a chance to sort things through my agenda".

They returned to the rest of the group shortly after, only for Hermione to say goodbye.

She hugged Harry for what felt like hours, but only kissed Pansy's cheeks as she was holding a now sleeping child in her arms.

She wavered when she turned to Lucius and Narcissa. "It- It was nice to meet you under more pleasurable circumstances".

 _Really, Hermione?_ , she thought.

The last time she'd seen the blond couple it was after the Battle of Hogwarts, five years before, and the one before that had been in their Manor, where Bellatrix Lestrange had tortured her.

She shrugged at the memory, and something in the way the oldest Malfoy was looking at her convinced her that he must have seen right through her.

It was a feeling she hadn't experimented in a long time, as well guarded as she was in her social interactions.

Yes, she needed to go back to her hotel and think about the entire situation, but most of all it was time for Hermione to make some choices.

 _Was she really ready to take it all back? The pain, the memories, the people._

It had been quite difficult for her to build a new life for herself, one that could satisfy her without ripping her heart out.

She hadn't thought about coming back to England before that morning, when she'd suddenly felt the urge to attend a party which she'd previously disregarded.

But now things were different. She had a... _brother_? It wasn't in her nature to just ignore that.

"Congratulations on becoming a daddy", she greeted Draco for last, her eyes already set on the door, and then she asked Theodore to escort her out.

They briefly stopped on their way out to exchange a few words with the Headmistress, who sent the former Slytherin a questioning glare which Hermione didn't fail to notice.

"I'll keep in touch", she murmured when she finally found an empty carriage. "I promise", she added when Theo didn't reply. "I won't disappear again".

"You won't? Because it feels like you're doing precisely so".

"I'm not. I just- _You're my brother, Theodore Nott_ ", she said. "That definitely means something to me. But I need time to find out what it means exactly". Hermione sighed. "On my own", she added.

The look on Theodore's face made her sad. She grabbed the sides of his face with her hands and planted a single, chaste kiss on his forehead. Then she took a card out of her hand-purse, handing it to him.

"If you need to talk to me before I can send you the phone, just call me at this number through someone else's. It's my personal contact", she explained as he absently caressed the black printing on the white card.

Hermione walked through the front door of her five stars muggle hotel in London almost an hour later.

" _Welcome back, Ms. Sallow. May I help you with your coat?_ "

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, everybody! I just finished chapter third,  
and I felt particularly cruel at the idea of not posting it  
asap. Let's say it's a gift for all the nice people who took their  
name to leave a review and add the story to followed/favorites.  
I really appreciated it. :))

There are a lot of things you and I still have to discover about  
Hermione Granger (or anyone else, I'm afraid), but I hope that  
you're starting to get a general idea of what she's been up to  
in the past five years.

In the upcoming chapters secrets will be  
revealed and stories will be shared between my characters,  
so don't worry, if you're patient enough you'll get to know everything.

In this chapter I mentioned telephones. I'm writing this only because I  
want to be sure there will be no misunderstandings or flames in the  
future over something that I personally find trivial: muggle technology  
will be particularly advanced in my story, despite the story being set in 2003,  
therefore wizarding technology will be advanced too  
(don't worry, we'll get there); so yeah, expect things (internet, smartphones, music)  
to be more like they are now than they were in 15 years ago. If someone doesn't like  
this kind of approach I'm sorry if that will prevent you from reading,  
but first and foremost I want to write a story that I personally enjoy.

I hope you can understand that. (:


	4. 16 SHOTS

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

[ _**REVISIONED**_ : _**07** / **19** / **19**_ ]

* * *

.  
 **  
4.  
**  
 **16 SHOTS**

.

 _"no gyal can tell me 'bout my mother  
16 shot, we go longer than a ladder  
dem nuh fi talk 'bout the real don dada  
put body inna pot dem a bun like grabba  
no boy can diss me or my mother  
round here ain't safe, everybody need armour  
16 shot, we go shotta any bluddah"_

* * *

 _ **(Pansy's flat**_ ** _–_** _ **Diagon Alley, London, England;  
July 6**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2003, around 19:15 p.m.)**_

* * *

Almost a month had passed since the Hogwarts reunion.

Everyone had expected the night to be eventful, yet nobody could have predicted the things that actually had happened: with Ronald Weasley's bloody nose, Harry Potter introducing Pansy Parkinson as his new girlfriend as former lover Ginny Weasley, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies, attends the party with young entrepreneur Blaise Zabini, and the half-blood daughter of Draco Malfoy, wizarding tabloids had headlines ready for the next few months.

The interest of titles like _The Prophet_ or _WitchWeekly_ for the so called _gold generation_ of Hogwarts' students was known.

One event in particular had caught their attention, though, and it was Hermione Granger's return to the United Kingdom after five years during which she'd disappeared into thin air.

"This morning I woke up and I thought I had dreamed about the whole thing. I still can't believe that of all people Theodore Nott ended up being your long missing brother", Pansy mused. "Rita Skeeter last week wrote that you're _fucking_ him, though".

"That's disgusting", Hermione scoffed. "And why someone would ever think that?"

"The former Slytherin gently wrapped his arms around the body of war-heroine, muggle-born extraordinaire Hermione Granger. Go to page 4 for a recap of Mrs. Granger's previous flings with dedicated timeline. Go to page 6 for our favourite's wizard declarations. What does Harry Potter think of her best friend's latest romance?", Harry chirped from his seat on the couch, holding a copy of that evening's Prophet in his hands.

He'd just arrived at Pansy's place from work to find Hermione in her living room, a glass of wine in her hands as a lot of suitcases sat in a corner of the room.

"I swear to you that all I said is _no comment_ ", he added, his brows furrowed.

"I can't believe she's still allowed to print her bullshit", Hermione drawled.

The witch was pacing the room, hands on her hips. Despite how feminine her outfit made her look, with the dark pencil skirt and the flowy blouse, she looked as determined as a soldier before the battle.

Snatching the paper from Harry's hands, her eyes quickly scamming the article. Once she was finished with that, she turned various pages and looked at the extras.

"I can't believe it!", Hermione shouted. "Michael Corner clearly doesn't classify as my ex. We went out once, and to Slughorn's party. We merely exchanged a few words and nothing happened between us. Haven't spoken with him ever since".

"I think you should come forward", Pansy suggested, an uncomfortable look on her face.

She knew how little the witch liked to be told what to do, but Hermione could be blind sometimes: now that she knew the truth, she'd make everything that was in power to assure her best friend wouldn't get hurt. Pansy owed her that much.

She shook her head, pushing away thoughts of how low she'd sunk before Hermione Granger had offered her a friendly hand.

She turned her gaze on Harry. "What do you say, love?", she asked her boyfriend, inviting him to play along with one swift movement of her eyebrow.

He snatched the paper back, resuming his reading."I'm with Pansy on this one, ' _Mione_ ", he said. He never raised his emerald green eyes. "Your name is selling an insane amount of papers. They won't drop it very soon".

"They will when _my lawyers_ will convince them to. I have enough resources to make the lives of anyone working in those papers, from editor-chief to the janitors, a living hell. They'll learn not to cross me", the witch barked in response.

Pansy had heard that tone before. It was the one Hermione used when she was meaning business, but the dark-haired witch thought of the situation more as personal rather than working-related. After all, it was her family, as much as that still sounded odd in her ears, she was talking about.

"Have you at least discussed the matter with Theo?", she asked.

Hermione stiffened and a slight blush crept on her cheeks. " _Well, I…_ "

"Oh, Merlin!", Pansy squeaked. "You said your dinner together was great when we spoke on the phone".

"And it was!", Hermione cried out. "We had dinner together two weeks ago, and I actually decided to give this thing a solid chance, but… I don't know, I guess I thought it was better for us to give each other some space", she explained after Harry's questioning look.

"I texted him a couple times", the witch defended herself. "And if you haven't noticed those are my things there", she pointed at the suitcases. "I'm staying the whole summer just to know him. Don't patronize me as I'm some sort of villain. It was a lot to take in".

Clever as ever, Hermione had just made them feel sorry for her.

It didn't last, though. Pansy and Harry knew her like the back of their hands.

"You know what? It doesn't matter", Harry said.

"Yeah, it really doesn't. He's coming over for dinner tomorrow night, anyway", added Pansy with a satisfied smile.

"I can make plans with my brother myself, thank you very much", Hermione reprimanded. Once more, she didn't enjoy being told what to do.

"I'm sure you can, darling", Pansy chuckled. "But you can't make plans with his friends. Friends who happen to be mine, too. They'll be here at seven".

The doorbell rang and she left the room to pick up their Thai dinner.

Hermione gave the Chosen One an hopeful look.

"Hey, don't look at me like that", Harry shrugged, raising from his seat on the couch. "I've been looking forward to meet Pansy's friends. They mean a lot to her, and she means a lot to both of us, if I got anything right about the dynamic between you two".

Hermione simply nodded.

"Plus, spending some time with you and his friends would probably mean a lot to Theodore", Harry added. "I think you shouldn't get so worked up for something like this. I wouldn't mind finding a relative that would rather have dinner with me instead of trying to steal my money".

That was a low blow, but it worked.

Hermione had been updated about the Dursleys' disgusting behaviour towards their nephew: once they'd discovered Lily and James had left him money, they'd been trying to milk some out of him non-stop. The whole ordeal was sick at best.

"Fine. I'll try to relax", she admitted as Pansy returned with two paper bags stuffed in her arms. "You are so whipped, aren't you?"

Harry chuckled, but ultimately didn't answer.

* * *

Twenty-four hours later, sitting at the giant table in her dining room, Pansy was furious.

The night before, after Harry had left, she and Hermione had talked for hours.  
She'd expressed her concerns about the witch's attitude towards her brother, who happened to be one of her oldest, dearest friends; the former Gryffindor had screamed her indignance, of course, as the situation was hurting her just as much it was hurting Theo.

Pansy had been a good friend: she'd hugged her and caressed her hair until Hermione hadn't cried herself to sleep.

However, she didn't like when people lied to her. No matter how painful, she'd learnt to always appreciate the truth.

That's why she'd have understood if the witch had told her she wasn't going to come to dinner: she had promised she'd be there tonight, instead, and now Pansy was looking at the empty chair on her left like she wanted to slowly, painfully kill it.

"How _dare_ she?", she hissed to Harry, who was sitting on her right.

In front of her six-months boyfriend was Luna Lovegood, who was probably the only friend she had in common with Hermione, or at least in England.

The blonde Ravenclaw had been one of the very few people with whom the witch had kept contacts during her voluntary self-exile to Australia. Luna had come to visit her a couple of times because of her researches, and muggle Tequila had done the rest. She was one of Pansy's closest friends, now.

"I'm sure Hermione will be here soon", Harry whispered in her hear.

"I don't know. She's taken this thing surprisingly well, but she acts like it really doesn't concern her. I don't get it", she whispered back.

"If you don't get it, I'm not sure I can. As much as it pains me, you know her better than me, now. I can tell you anything about the person she was, but I have almost nothing if you ask who she is now. I just hope she'll give me a chance to get updated".

He had spoken with a very soft and low tone, but someone heard him anyway.

"I am sure she will, Harry, but I'm afraid I have to correct you", Luna joined the conversation with her peculiar dreamy voice. "She's not a different person. Such a thing is not possible. She has just, _umh_ , developed. For lack of a better word, that is. Just like we all did. And we also are more than one person depending on the circumstances, she still probably doesn't know who she can be here. You have to admit it's an unlikely guest-list".

"It's unlikely, but not impossible", said Theodore, who was sitting on her right. "Things don't always have to make sense to happen".

"Oh, trust me, Theodore. I'm aware of that", she gently replied before taking a sip of her Elf-wine.

On the opposite side of the table, where Blaise and Ginny were engaged in conversation with Draco and both Greengrass sisters, someone broke out in laughter.

"I can't believe you really said that to her", Astoria said to Blaise, her fingers promptly removing a couple of tears from the corners of her eyes while her entire body was still shaking. "I can't believe it!"

"But that's what he did!", chuckled Ginny. "That's actually why I agreed to go out with him in the first pl-"

Everyone shut silent when they heard the main door opening. The noise of high heels walking on the parquet followed shortly after.

"Pansy?", called Hermione from the other room.

The former Gryffindor witch was wearing a sundress with small flowers printed on it. The fabric left her shoulders bare, her chest exalted by a long, fancy necklace. Her hair was tied up in two French-braids, which reached just above her upper rib. On her face there was minimal make-up, whose major focus consisted on the bright, cherry red lips that matched the flowers on her dress _and_ the colour of her shoes.

Pansy shook her head. "What took you so long? Except from preparing yourself for the muggle Oscars, of course".

"Yeah, I'm really sorry I'm late. I got a call from the office and I had to beg the Minister for a Portkey to Sydney. Lex showed his stupid face at the headquarters this morning, and I had to deal with him myself. I just got back".

"That would explain why your under-eye concealer has completely disappeared", Pansy smirked.

She snatched the purple shopping bag, taking a peek at its content. There were four bottles of Odgen's finest Firewhisky.

It felt a bit extreme for a quiet dinner gathering in the middle of the week.

Pansy shot her friend a questioning look. "What the fuck was Martin doing there, anyway?"

"I'll tell you everything later. If I remember correctly we have a dinner to attend, now. And I personally have some of this to drink. _Asap_ ", Hermione said, grabbing the bottle Pansy had just taken out of the bag.

She shook her head, and followed the witch in the dining room.

Pansy sat next to Harry once again, then removed her wand from the waistband of her jeans and with a flick of her wrist the appetizers left their place inside the kitchen and flew to the table, placing themselves where there was enough space.

Before the last tray could touch the tablecloth, Theodore had already started properly introducing Hermione to yet another part of her old-new family.

She ignored her annoyed look with sheer nonchalance.

"These two are our cousins. They were both in Slytherin, but while Daphne, the eldest, was in our year, Astoria started Hogwarts when we were in our third year. We usually call her Tori, by the way".

"Nice to meet you, girls", Hermione waved her hand in their direction with an uncertain smile on her lips.

She clearly wasn't expecting their reaction from the frown on her face when they raised from their seats and rushed to hers, engulfing her in an awkward one-sided hug.

"In front of you, at end of the table, it's Draco", continued Theo when they stopped. "But I'm sure you already know that".

Hermione and Draco wore identical sneers.

"On his right there's Ginny with Blaise, but you already know them. And here on my left it's Luna Lovegood-"

"Yeah, I know. I'm the one who invited her. We've been friends for a long time. I thought it could only be good to have someone... _neutral_ at the table to dissolve any tension", Hermione joked.

"Oh, I'm sure that won't be necessary, Hermione", Luna intervened. "We're having a wonderful evening, so far".

Hermione cringed. "I wish I could say the same about my day".

"What happened?", asked Draco before wiping his mouth with a napkin to clean any sauce that might had spilt.

"Something at work", she cut him short. "I don't really want to talk about it".

"I thought Pansy was saying you're taking a leave from work for the next three months", he argued. "And don't you live on the other side of the planet?"

"Excuse Draco, he's always been too curious for his own good", intervened Theodore before his sister got any chance to answer. "Now, mate, if you're done _interrogating_ her".

"Yeah, sorry, Granger. I didn't mean to harass you". Draco lifted his hands in the universal gesture for white flag. "Don't mind me".

"It's fine, Malfoy. As Pansy told you I am officially on holiday for the next three months. Something personal happened in my working place, so I asked the Minister for a Portkey. Hopefully I won't need to return to Sydney until the end of September, but next time I will be prepared to say the least".

"What do you mean?"

"I bought a private one, I just need to get it registered, but I'm sure that the bureaucracy won't be a problem", Hermione explained.

"Wow", whistled Blaise. "Those aren't like 10 million Galleons at their cheapest? Not to mention the maintenance costs".

Pansy smiled at her dark-skinned friend. He'd always been such a technology enthusiast.

When Zabini had discovered how good muggle were at producing that, he'd fallen in love. Or at least that was what she'd been told. The witch had missed four years in the lives of her friends and she was sure there were a lot of things they were yet to share with her.

"I don't mind spending my money when it's for such a good cause", Hermione mused. "This way I can stay here as long as I want to, but still go temporarily back to Sydney if an emergency comes up".

"We're talking about you, Hermione", Pansy chirped in. "There's always an emergency".

"Well, not like this one", she replied, her eyes sending daggers. "Like I said, today was a personal matter".

"I hope everything is fine. Let me know if I can do something to help", Theo proposed.

Hermione stopped him with a wave of her hand. "I can take care of it, don't worry. Very soon this problem I'm dealing with will no longer exist".

"I understand", he muttered, uncertainly.

A wicked thought crossed Pansy's mind.

She threw a quick look at the portion of the table on her right.

Everyone seemed engaged in conversation, except for Draco, who looked more focused on his food rather than Astoria's rambling, and Harry, who was quietly listening to the exchange between brother and sister.

She decided to push some buttons and test her theory.

"I think Theo could actually help, Hermione", she casually said.

Before Hermione could cut off her intervention, Nott beamed at his twin. "Well, if you need lawyers I can help. We have some pretty good ones at the Nott Foundation", he said. "Or if you need money … Just ask me. Whatever you need, as long as it's legal".

That was _**it**_.

Theodore had no stinking idea of what Hermione's job was.

Pansy couldn't believe she hadn't shared at least that detail about her life with her brother, as year after year it had become the most prominent of them all.

"Nothing like that", she shrugged. Pansy noticed Hermione's pleading look, her desperate attempt to stop the words from leaving her mouth, but she ultimately decided to ignore it. "It's about her husband".

Theo blinked. "Your husband, Hermione?", he asked her with a weak attempt of hiding his surprise. "Are you married?"

"That abomination of a man is not my husband. He's _someone I married by mistake_. I filed in the annulment before twenty-four hours could pass", Hermione explained, her tone anything but pleased.

"How can you marry someone by mistake?", asked Harry, who hadn't participated to the conversation until now.

He exchanged an understanding look with Pansy, letting her know he wanted to play the game with her.

"She was drunk", Pansy chuckled. "Do you remember when I disappeared in the middle of our dinner a couple months ago? She'd just sent me a video-message telling me she was getting married in half an hour. I've never seen her that wasted, and I've been to Coachella with that bitch".

"That's enough, Pansy", Hermione said. "And you forgot to mention the part where getting me drunk and married was part of a devious scheming plan to steal my money".

"I believe that's what you call a gold-digger, 'Mione", Harry mused.

"It's a lot worse than that", she snorted. "Let's just say that I have my own company, alright? I was attending the birthday party of one of my shareholders. It wasn't long after Pansy left. At some point in the evening he introduced me to his son, Lex. He didn't take long to ask me out. Six months or so later he did what he did. His biggest mistake being getting me drunk, otherwise I wouldn't have gone into the wrong bathroom and missed the possibility of over-hearing one very interesting conversation he had with his father. They were planning to manipulate me into giving Lex, and therefore Mr. Martin, most of my share. Having me playing the nice, little wife or something like that while they played with the toy I literally built for myself. As if such a plan could ever work".

"When I found her I was really afraid she could _kill_ him", Pansy felt the need to add to her story. "She scared the hell out of me".

"Couldn't blame her if she did, though, could we?", Draco chimed in.

"Thank you", Hermione stiffly replied. "Now I believe we have discussed my personal life long enough".

Pansy was about to drop her act and give up. Maybe she shouldn't have meddled so much.

"Shut it, 'Mione", Harry scoffed. "You've been gone for five years, don't think for a second that five minutes of explanation are going to cut it. Who are you going to discuss your personal life with if not with us?"

"Harry, you're not in the position of telling me-"

"What to do? Grow up, Hermione! That guy", he pointed his finger at Nott. "That guy is your brother. He is dying to ask you questions and get to know you, but you are so self-absorbed that you keep pushing him away. Has he ever done a bloody wrong thing to you?"

Pansy knew that part of Harry's anger was due to Hermione pushing him away, too. She gently patted a hand on his arm, trying to comfort him.

In the meantime, Hermione looked like she'd just been slapped.

The witch sighed, rubbing the back of her hands on her eyes. She couldn't believe Harry had just said those things. "Let's be open, then", she snapped.

Then she took her telephone out of her purse, which was hanging at the back of her chair.

Hermione quickly scanned through her phonebook, stopping at the letter "L". She pressed a name on her touchscreen and waited for someone to pick up her call.

Unfortunately, Lex Martin seemed to be unavailable, so she was forced to leave a message.

"Hello, Lex. It's me, your lovely _wife_ ", she sappily recited. "I'm afraid I haven't been clear enough this morning. There won't be no re-opening of our divorce case. You deceived me and you tried to steal from me. You lied to my face since the very day we met. Be sure you will regret we ever did. Say to that asshole of your father that he will hear from my lawyers very soon. I'm buying him out. If you're smart, you'll never let me see your face again"

As Hermione pressed another button and slammed her mobile on the table, everyone else in the room was frozen.

Apparently, she'd spoken loud enough to capture the attention of those people who'd been having their own conversations, too.

"Is everything alright?", Ginny asked.

"Yeah, everything is fine", she replied with a tight smile. "Now I feel a lot better, actually. I think it's time we get to the first course. What do you say, Pansy? Help me pick it up?", she then asked with a much icier look.

Pansy sighed, following her to the kitchen and locking the door behind her back after they'd both entered. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I pushed you too hard", she apologized. "I was only looking for a way to break some of the ice you keep throwing in their faces".

"As I tried to tell you yesterday, this whole _suddenly having a brother_ thing is really hard to take in. I like Theodore, I like him a lot, and I hate myself when he looks like he wants to hug me and I automatically take a step back", Hermione confessed, rushing to the counter where the short rib lasagna was waiting to be eaten. "My point is, I don't know him, yet. And I'm tired of putting my efforts in human relations when at the end of the day they always disappoint me".

"Do I disappoint you, too?"

"That's not what I meant, Pansy", she sighed. "I just want to take things very slow. And I don't want to talk about my job because I'm actually trying to make an effort to be nice to your friends. People always get weird when I mention _MagiTech_ ".

"Then you'll be surprised, my friend", Pansy pushed her aside with one swift hit of her hips on Hermione's. "Never forget that we were born in a very similar environment".

"I honestly can't see the similarities between Pureblood's tea parties and my company meetings", Hermione scoffed.

"Perhaps you should stop covering your eyes and pretending to be blind, then. Now stop worrying about Lex and try to have some actual fun. I promise you that no one wants to discomfort you, and that even if you talk about _MagiTech_ nobody will throw a fit".

"I'm still not sure. You can't really blame me if I have trust issues after everything that's happened in the past, and Lex is the perfect example".

"Do you trust me?", Pansy asked, her hand already on the handle of the door. "Wait, don't answer that. If you trusted me I would know about every single one of those things in your past, but we both know that there is a lot of stuff you haven't shared with me. I'm fine with that, Hermione, really. But I'm tired of lying to my friends about what I do for a living. I'm tired of lying to Harry. I hope you'll understand if I'll be honest about my life with the people I care about. I won't interfere in what you share of yours anymore".

With that, Pansy returned to the dining room.

Her guests were still pretty weirded out from Hermione's sudden outburst, but nobody asked when the former Gryffindor surpassed her and rushed to her seat.

Pansy placed the casserole in her hands on the table, then she did the same.

She turned her head when Hermione hit her glass with the low end of her fork.

"I'm sorry if I haven't been exactly warm or… _friendly_ ", Hermione said, a slight blush on her cheeks but her head held high. "Since I haven't been in good terms with most of you while we were attending Hogwarts, I'll spare you the whole I have changed speech, I'm sure you won't mind. You don't know me and I don't know you. So, nice to meet you, I suppose. I'm sure that if both Pansy and Theodore think high of you, there must be a reason".

Hermione's clumsy speech was welcomed by the raising of nine glasses of wine.

"I don't think you should consider me Pansy or Theodore's friend", Daphne shyly pointed out. "I mean, your… your mother was our aunt. We are cousins. Theo already mentioned it, I believe".

Hermione looked at her like a predator looks at its prey. "Like _first grade_ cousins?", she asked.

Daphne and Astoria both nodded.

"Well, about that. We've been doing a lot of talking about how reserved I am about my life, yet everybody in the room forgot to tell me that Theo is engaged".

At the mention of his name, but most of all of his engagement, her brother gulped.

"I wanted to introduce Daphne to you first. She's family before she's my fiancé", he tried to excuse himself.

"Sure", she chastised. "So, _Daphne is your girlfriend_ ".

"Yeah, that she is".

" _Your first grade cousin Daphne is your girlfriend_ ".

"I'm afraid I don't see where you're going", he admitted.

" _Do you fuck our first grade cousin Daphne, Theodore?_ "

Nobody had ever seen neither Theodore nor Daphne's faces so red before. It looked like they were about to implode.

"I'm afraid so", the blonde witch stepped in. "Is that a problem?"

"It's _barbaric_ ", said Hermione with a shrug. "And also not healthy for your offspring. But hey, you do you, _cousin_ ".

"Hermione, I-", uttered Theo.

"Do you _love_ her?"

"Stop it!", shouted Daphne while throwing her napkin on the floor. "I came here to know you, not to ask your opinion about my personal life. What Theodore and I do is strictly our business".

"Maybe you don't fuck her, after all", Hermione mused. "Look, Daphne, I'm not trying to be mean here. But I'm not the kind of person who circles around what she really thinks. Plus, Theo hasn't answered my question yet. I'm pretty sure that means _no_ ".

"That's enough", Theo eventually hissed.

Daphne was about to smirk triumphantly to Hermione when she froze on her seat as he spoke again.

"Maybe it's time we tell the truth about our relationship, Daphne".

Saying that Pansy was trilled simply wouldn't cut it. She'd often spoke with her other friends about how odd the relationship between the two was, and now she was all ears.

"W-what do you mean?", she stuttered. "Theo?"

"I'm sorry, Daph. But Hermione has been honest about her marriage, tonight, and she made me realize that I'm sick of lying and I'm sick of hiding", he apologized. "At some point around a year ago Daphne came to me. She was desperate because her mother was pushing her into marrying with Marcus Flint's older brother. At that time it didn't bother me faking a relationship, Daphne was getting some time to breathe and I could look for my sister without drawing too much attention on the fact that I would have been around a lot less. We can keep up the charade if you want, Daphne, but please excuse me if I don't want to lie to my friends anymore".

The last part sounded oddly similar to what she'd told Hermione not long before in Pansy's ears, but the dark-haired witch had no time to make conjectures on it.

Her guests had gone wild.

"Icarus Flint? Isn't he like thirty-eight?"

"Why didn't you tell me? I'm your sister, for _Salazar_ 's sake! I can't believe it! She couldn't do it to me and now he's been trying to do it to you under my very nose!"

"Wow, man. That's some tea you just spilled. But why pretending to be together should stop Mrs. Greengrass? And why haven't you told Mrs. Greengrass to shove it up her old ass, Daph?"

"I'm glad to hear it, Theo. My nephews won't be born with two heads".

"I think we should all be grateful for the unexpected boast of honesty. I have a confession, too. Sometimes I purposely wear my socks in two different colors". That was obviously Luna.

"It's even better than aunt Petunia's lunch soap-opera".

Only three people hadn't talked yet, and they were Draco, who was staring at Theodore like he'd just betrayed him, Pansy, who was too busy processing what everyone else was saying, and Daphne, who looked like she was about to faint.

"I thought I could trust you", she murmured on the edge of tears. "If you all please will excuse me".

Pansy could see her blonde hair glimmering in the hair before she rushed to the bathroom. "Congratulations", she sneered at Hermione.

Meanwhile her friend was looking at Theodore, not interested in the nearly cold lasagna in her plate. "Theo, I didn't mean to-"

"Not now, Hermione. I should go talk to her", he interrupted her, pushing his dish aside and leaving the room at a quick pace.

"It certainly is an eventful dinner", chirped, always the optimist, Ginny.

"You tell me", joined Astoria.

It seemed that an unlikely bond had been formed between the two, because they kept quietly talking to each other until the Slytherin left to check on her sister.

Draco, on his behalf, didn't know what to do with all the information.

He'd long detached himself from the family's grasp, his decisions being only his, and couldn't understand what kind of motifs could have led Daphne to ask his best mate to fake a relationship. What could Mrs. Greengrass possibly do to her?

He exchanged an understanding look with Pansy, who was sipping her wine.

She had already accepted the fact her dinner wouldn't go as she'd planned it.

"Maybe I should go grab the roast", proposed Harry from his seat on her right.

"I'll come with you", offered Luna.

Pansy's flat was shaken by the sound of something heavy falling to the floor, probably from the bathroom inside of which Daphne had chosen to hide herself.

"Maybe we should directly skip to dessert", his girlfriend shouted at Harry's back.

Pansy had reached the point where she just wished for everyone to go to their houses.

It was clear that they'd wanted too much done too soon.

She didn't want to waste another minute thinking about Daphne's repelling mother.

She was really sad about what was happening in her friend's life, but she wasn't going to step in and do something about it. As Daphne had left her alone five years before, when Pansy Cordelia Parkinson had been not only disowned by her parents for loving a girl, but also left broken hearted by the same girl she loved under her mother's orders.

She had something good there, with Harry.

She wasn't going to be sucked up in her drama again.

"Next time we should definitely go to the restaurant", she snorted.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, after everyone had returned to the table to eat the dessert, a simple carrot cake, in religious silence, the first guests started to leave.

Blaise and Ginny almost jumped out of the door, with promises of meeting again very soon.

Considering how bad dinner had went, Pansy doubted they would accept another invitation before the end of summer.

Daphne and Astoria followed shortly after. She could hear the latter asking her sister to move in with her before she closed the door behind their back.

The remaining guests were sitting in the living room, but nobody really looked like he wanted to be there: Draco and Theodore were sitting together in one of her red sofas, two glasses of liquor in their hands; Harry was mirroring their actions in one of the armchairs, while Luna was gathering her stuff.

"Well, that was fun. I hope you'll have things sort out next time we meet", she said, and then she took her leave.

Pansy and Hermione were placed in the other sofa, legs crossed.

They had glasses in their hands, too, but instead of _FireWhisky_ they were now sipping homemade _Cosmopolitans_.

"I guess it can only be better from now on", Hermione suddenly chuckled.

Pansy knew her well enough to tell she was completely, utterly drunk by now.

"What do you mean?", asked Nott. The wizard still looked bitter from what happened before, but he was slowly getting rid of his anger.

"Anything, really. From future gatherings, as none could be worse than this one, to our love lives. Is there something _sadder_ than a fraudolent husband who wants to steal from you or a fake relationship with your cousin?"

" _The dead mother of your child_?"

All eyes turned on Draco, who had spoken with an incredibly calm tone.

It was like he was used to tell people about it all the time, and now that Pansy thought about it that was probably the case, with all the events Narcissa had forced him to attend in her stead as she hid in the Manor waiting for her husband's return from Azkaban.

"What happened?", asked Harry.

"She died giving birth to Adhara. We hadn't seen each other in a while and she never said she was pregnant. It was quite shocking finding out I had fathered someone, actually".

"I'm really sorry, Draco. Do you regret it?"

"I don't think so. I know I'm very young to be a father, and that it won't be easy raising her on my own, but I could never regret having her. Even if I was denied the time to imagine what she would look like".

After Draco and Harry's brief intercourse, no matter the fact the two of them had actually been extremely polite to each other, the general mood sank even lower.

"Well, dinner was a failure. Maybe we should try with lunch next time", joked Draco.

He hugged Pansy, who had escorted him to the door as soon as he'd decided to take his leave.

"Maybe lunch will be better", she conceded. "I think there's potential here, I hope those who must will see it before it's too late".

"Meaning Granger. Your friend", he said.

"Yeah, Granger. My friend".

"How that happened, again? You used to hate the poor girl while we were in Hogwarts".

"I can't believe I'm hearing this from _you_ , Draco".

"I'm not saying I was any better, Pans, but my father actually pushed me to be nasty with Muggle-borns. I don't recall your family being particularly purist".

"They didn't openly support Voldemort, but it doesn't mean they didn't believe in his cause, or that they taught me to be something else than a spoiled, mean, little princess".

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. See you soon, Pansy".

"Goodnight, Draco".

When Pansy turned back to the living room, Harry was gone.

From the kitchen came the noise of someone manually washing the dishes, and when she spotted Hermione and Theodore snuggled together on the sofa, talking quietly, she understood that he'd probably wanted to give brother and sister some space.

She walked the distance as quietly as possible, and kept Harry company while he finished his task.

When the couple returned to the living room, five minutes later, Theodore had left and Hermione was nowhere to be seen, probably already in her bedroom.

"Do you think they'll be fine?", she asked.

"Enough with them", he replied. "Now I want my girlfriend to myself, if you don't mind".

Harry hugged her from behind, crossing his arms on her chest, leaving a trail of wet kisses on the back of her neck.

"No, Mr. Potter. I don't mind at all".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, guys! Chapter 4th is up. :))

Before I move on to more serious topics, I would like to  
really thank the 16 people who reviewed this story and  
the 48 and 126 who respectively put it in their favorites  
and followed. I'm really happy you're liking my story so far.

I would really like to briefly answer a review I received, as it  
was anonymous. I think other people would like to know  
my opinion and direction on the matter.

It said: " _Call me selfish for seeing a baby as a reason not to_  
 _date a guy, but it's a shame Draco has a kid. The only thing_  
 _that could make up for it is if Hermione has one too_ ".

First of all, I don't think you're selfish for thinking of something  
like that, or at least not in a way that it's unhealthy.  
It definitely takes a lot in my opinion to form a bond with someone that  
already has such a strong one.

If there's someone with a heart big enough for both  
Draco and Adhara, though, then that's Hermione (even  
though she definitely doesn't know that yet).  
I think it also helps that Malfoy wasn't in love with  
his daughter's mom, but that is a tale for another day.

If you don't mind, let me know what you think of Pansy so far.  
She's one of the secondary characters with the most  
detailed background in this fic, and I hope I'll make you love  
this version of her just as much as I do. :))


	5. LUCKY YOU

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

[ _**REVISIONED**_ : _**11** / **13** / **19**_ ]

* * *

 **5.**

 **LUCKY YOU  
**.

 _"I done said lotta things in my day, I admit it,  
this is payback in a way (…) wasn't in it for the trophies,  
just the fuckin' recognition, fuck's the difference?  
(…) and actually coming from humble beginnings  
I'm somewhat uncomfortable winning,  
I wish I could say 'what a wonderful feeling"_

* * *

 _ **(Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream Parlour -  
Diagon Alley, London, England;  
July 11**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2003, around 08:40 a.m)**_

* * *

Almost a week had passed since Theodore had seen his twin.

He'd been busy dealing with Daphne, who had temporarily moved into the Manor after confronting her mother on their fake relationship, with Nott Enterprises, which had recently suffered from a bad collapse in the stock market.

Just when he thought the pieces of his life were going back to their place, with the family business closing the year in a positive fashion for the first time in five years last December.

Theo sighed, sipping the black coffee in his cup nonchalantly.

Sitting comfortably in a table at Fortescue's, one of the very few shops in Diagon Alley where they could still enter without the owners asking them to leave, he scoffed at the sign in the window-shop in front of him. _Death Eaters not allowed_.

But Death Eaters weren't the only people suffering the new strain of racism the war had produced: a tiny connection with someone suspected to be one was enough to be ostracized, and Theodore wasn't only having his breakfast with Draco Malfoy, whose mark had been publicly punished by the Wizengamot, but was also the son of renowned Dark Lord's supporter and lapdog Cantankerus Nott.

There was no way he was going to step foot into many of his favourite shops ever again.

"I still can't see why that is a problem", he said, bringing his focus back to the conversation he was having with Blaise.

On the other side of the table, Draco Malfoy and Gregory Goyle were quietly skimming through the latest Prophet's edition, distracting from breakfast only to share their opinions on interesting news.

"Where you even listening to me, mate?", Zabini shook a hand in front of his face, clearly annoyed by his lack of attention. "I never said it's a problem. I'm just saying that MagiTech finally coming to the UK, and you know how much of a fanboy I am for all the stuff they make, will necessarily step up the game for everyone else. I'm still not sure how I will introduce the problem to Lucius".

With Lucius locked up in Azkaban and Draco exiled with the muggles for two years, at the end of the war Narcissa Malfoy née Black had found herself struggling to keep _Malfoy Industries_ alive.

She'd appointed Blaise C.E.O shortly after he'd graduated from Hogwarts with outstanding N.E.W.T.'s, and when Draco had returned a year later, refusing the position, he'd kept administering the business along with the one he'd inherited from one of his many (dead) fathers in law.

Now that Lucius was back, however, Zabini wasn't comfortable with the idea of working for the father of one of his best friends and had promptly resigned.

He'd accepted to stay a bit longer and help Lucius get acquainted with the new politics of his own company, but now time was running out.

In less than two weeks he could finally focus on his next project.

"I bet he won't understand half of their inventions", Draco said, finishing his cream filled croissant with one last bite.

Theo smiled at his friend. It was very much like him not to utter a word until his breakfast was completely over.

"Can't really blame our old boy, can we?", intervened Gregory from his seat on the blond's left. "It took me a week to figure out some of the things muggle keep in their kitchen. Tracey still doesn't let me near the oven".

Gregory's wife, Tracey Davis, was a Half-blood witch.

Her mother's story had been very similar to Andromeda Tonk's: she'd eloped with her Muggle-born boyfriend shortly after she'd graduated from Hogwarts, and never spoke to her family ever again. As of now, she was the last living member of the Burke dynasty, with her younger brother dying during the second battle among the Death Eater's lines, and either she or Tracey couldn't care less.

Just like a common Muggle-born, Tracey had discovered magic at the age of eleven, when she'd received her letter from Hogwarts.

It'd been rough for her during her first years, as she'd been placed in Slytherin, but soon enough she'd discovered a way to make people respect her, and paradoxically she'd ended up making friends with the _die-hard purists_ of her year. The first of them being Crabbe and Goyle, who'd held a candle for her during their entire scholarship, bonus year included.

She and Gregory had actually been two of the few Slytherins who'd returned to Hogwarts the year following the war and graduated.

"Can't really blame her, man", Draco chuckled. "You set her new car on fire".

"That happened only once!", Goyle protested. "And it's not like it was intentional".

"Of course, it wasn't", the blond smirked. "It just happened to be _pink_ , right?"

The four friends shared a laugh, ignoring the suspicious looks the few witches and wizards in the shop were throwing at them.

Florean Fortescue had returned to London at the end of the war, after the months of hiding that had followed the Death Eaters' attack at his shop.

He'd re-opened on the third of May and offered free ice-cream for an entire week.

Even though he'd been personally touched by the slimy tentacles of war, effectively losing his shop and almost his life, Florean had decided not to hold a grudge: as long as you were a paying, respectful client, the middle-aged wizard was always ready to give you a table if he had an empty one.

" _Isn't that your sister?_ ", Blaise asked, pointing at the figure who was passing in front of the window, outside of the shop.

Hermione Granger was walking down the road in one of her polished flowy dresses.

As any other time Theo had seen her since the reunion, she was wearing impossible high heels and a bold color on her lips.

Theodore stood up suddenly, an unwilling victim of the impulse to stop her that had become automatic the moment he'd reconnected with her.

He was still pissed at his sister for the way she'd acted at dinner the week before, and especially for their lack of contact since then, but he rushed out of the parlour anyway. "Hermione?", he called, his eyes fixed on the white fabric of the back of her dress.

The woman turned around, her eyes covered by big sunglasses.

It took him only a second to realize they weren't those he'd just seen on the woman outside the window.

"I'm sorry, _Ms_. I'm afraid I've mistaken you for someone else", he apologized, then swiftly turned on his heels to return to his breakfast.

Theodore walked back to the ice-cream shop, his hand already on the handle of the main entrance when he threw one last glance to the crowded street where Hermione had just been walking.

" _Looking for something?_ ", chirped a female voice behind his back.

"Hermione, _hi_ ", he greeted, a spontaneous smile on his lips. "How have you been feeling?"

" _Guilty_ ", she spat, a frown on her face. "I feel embarrassingly sorry for my behaviour at Pansy's".

Theo's brow arched. "You already apologized", he said.

"I'm not sure you accepted my apology. That's why I stopped when I saw you inside of Fortescue's. I was wondering if you could spare me five minutes of your time so that we could talk about it", she admitted, her cheeks flushed as the sunlight hit them on their highest point.

Her _glowing-from-within_ skin had probably been helped by the expert use of a light hand of make-up, but she looked beautiful nonetheless.

His pride was quickly tainted by pain, though. Her resemblance with Anastasia Nott was downright shocking.

"I'm currently having breakfast with friends", he said. "If you can endure them for an hour or so, then I'm all yours for the rest of the morning", he added, noticing the flash of hurt that passed in her eyes.

Her sunglasses were perched on top of her head, holding back some tufts of her light brown, long hair.

Hermione smiled. "I think I can manage that", she accepted.

It was nine a.m. and it was a Sunday, meaning he didn't have to go work and they had all the time they wanted.

They entered Florean Fortescue's in silence, then Theodore quickly withdrew to grab an additional chair for their table.

Walking backwards on his steps, he found Hermione waiting for him exactly where he'd left her.

"I can have breakfast with them, but it would be weird if I just jumped at their table and say good morning, right?"

"I don't think they would actually mind", he grinned.

As they approached the table, he could see her posture becoming less and less confident, but she must had noticed that too, because she straightened her shoulders and plastered a convincing smile on her face.

"Good morning", she awkwardly greeted them, then childishly stuck her tongue out when she noticed Theo's smirking face.

"I hope it's not a problem if I join you for breakfast", she casually added as she took her seat in the chair he'd previously occupied.

Theodore had thought about giving her the one that was still in his hands, so that he could comfortably squeeze her between Blaise and himself, but now that her eyes were pierced on Draco's and the two wore similar uncomfortable expressions on their faces, he couldn't help but think that maybe their discomfort was worth it, as it certainly was amusing to watch.

Before he could say anything to break the obvious tension, the waitress reached their table and started picking up the empty cups and dishes.

"Can I bring you something else?", she asked, staring at Hermione who had just arrived.

"I'll have a _double espresso_ and a small cup of your _Caramel Balsamic Swirl_ , please", the witch ordered after a quick look at the menu.

"Anything else?"

"Does someone want another coffee?", Theo asked his friends, then ordered three more.

Goyle had opted for tea, something that had to do with _detoxing_. Or at least, those had been his words.

Their order arrived very quickly, about two minutes later, and when Rachel, that's what was written on the badge pinned to her apron, placed a tray in the middle of the circular table, Draco and Hermione were still sending daggers at each other with their eyes.

"Okay, then. I'll just get it out of my chest", she huffed behind the small cup in her hands. "Stop looking at me like you're afraid I'm going to _punch_ you, Malfoy".

Theo spotted Draco's trademark smirk on his lips and considered making an intervention, then noticed how surprisingly relaxed his shoulders had now become and decided to stay quiet and just watch.

"Only if you stop looking like you're _about_ to punch me", the blond replied. "It wouldn't be the _first time_ , now, would it?"

"I'm afraid not", she played along. A little, amused smile graced her burgundy painted lips. "Maybe I should punch you again, then", she offered.

"I'm not sure you're tall enough", he said, eyeing the foot at the end of her right leg, which was crossed above the other, but visible because not covered by the table like the rest of her legs. "Or _tall at all_ , really".

"I certainly wasn't tall at thirteen years of age, Malfoy, yet I remember you running to Madame Pomfrey", she retorted. " _Crying_ ".

Theo wondered if the way she could hide venom in her words had something to do with the huge amount of time she'd spent with Pansy, who'd always been way above the average rate of bad-ass- _iness_ required to be a member of House Slytherin.

"Come and get me, Granger", Draco chuckled. "I'm not sure I'm as easy to punch as I was in third year".

That was definitely surprising.

One of the young Malfoy's most peculiar traits had always been his lack of ability of laughing when the joke was on him.

They'd fought about it many times in their years at Hogwarts, and even though he'd now became almost normal in that regard, Theo obviously hadn't expected him to be as relaxed as he was looking with Hermione joining their group.

* * *

On her part, Hermione wasn't relaxed at all, but she pretended to be.

She didn't reply to his last remark, her eyes really focusing on Draco's frame for the first time since she'd returned to England.

She'd obviously noticed the change in his appearance both at the reunion and at the dinner, but she'd purposely refused to spare him a second glance.

Of all the people she'd spoken to, Malfoy was definitely the one with whom she shared the most tumultuous past.

Was his physical appearance the only thing that had changed, or was he different as a person, too?

He definitely spent a large amount of time on his health _and_ appearance, that was sure.

Hermione wasn't blind, she could clearly see the outline of his muscles from the short sleeves of the shirt he was wearing, and they were no match for the skinny, pointy guy she'd gone to school with.

With a sigh, she mentally admitted he had turned out handsome.

 _Not that it was any of her business, of course_.

The former Gryffindor witch shook her head, then focused her energies on the unexpectedly difficult task of eating her ice-cream without staining her outfit.

The weather had been surprisingly sunny and warm that summer, with that day making no exception. Her ice-cream was melting down under her annoyed eyes.

"Ice-cream for breakfast?", asked Goyle, who'd finished his drink for some time now, but was still playing with the teaspoon in his hand.

"Yeah", she nodded. "I haven't had one of these in five years", she gestured at the cup in her hand. "Not that I get to eat ice-cream very often, not without my PR forcing me to dispose of the excess sugar in the gym, at least".

"I do have a gym and I can promise you and that bitch of your PR that nothing bad will happen to you if you eat some ice-cream", the other replied.

"Yeah, good luck getting that into Pansy's head. I'm not even allowed to wear flats in public more than once in a week, but she's so bloody brilliant at her job that it's kind of worth it to submit to her regimen", Hermione muttered.

It actually made a lot of sense for Goyle to have his own gym.

The excess weight that had distinguished him in school was long gone, and now there was a built, lean man in front of her.

She didn't remember ever talking to him in school, and with her friends they'd always just assumed he and Crabbe were _stupid_ , always following Malfoy around like dogs with a bone.

Maybe that had been wrong on her part.

Though she couldn't deny the fact he'd indeed been Draco's sidekick while he was a student, maybe Gregory Goyle had something to say actually worth listening to. At least now she knew why the former Slytherins she'd met looked like they'd just got back from a photo-shoot for a fancy muggle paper.

Even Pansy seemed more fit lately, and she'd always sported quite a nice physique.

"Pansy's your PR?", asked Blaise, his eyes wide open.

"Yeah, she deals with many _social_ aspects of my company, from speaking with clients to organizing parties. She's also in charge of my public image. She's the author behind what the world knows about me nowadays. Now that she's returned to England most of her work has been assigned to her assistant, so I'm dealing with the latter issue myself, and she's concerned mostly with the expansion I'm currently planning".

" _Merlin_ , I can't believe it's happening to _me_ ", Blaise hummed, then crossed the table with his arm to grab her hand, gently squeezing it between his own.

"I'm afraid I don't understand what exactly you think is happening", a baffled Hermione replied to the unexpected display of affection.

"I'm very honored to meet you", the other ceremoniously announced before placing a kiss on her hand. "I've been a big fan of your work since I first discovered about it, _Ms. Sallow_ ".

Hermione honestly wished she'd faint right then and there.

Four pairs of eyes were now locked on her, making her attempt at smiling way more sheepish.

With her biggest secret now out of the closet, she unexpectedly felt like she could finally have a real conversation with her brother and his friends.

There was nothing to hide, now. Nothing of this kind of importance, at least.

"I assume Pansy has told you", she murmured. "It's nice to meet you, too, Zabini", she replied, cringing at the sound of her own words.

She'd known the adoring git who was still holding her hand since she was eleven.

"Now, why don't you tell me why you're such a fan of _MagiTech_?"

For the following twenty minutes she witnessed an excited Blaise Zabini on _fangirling_ mode, who asked question after question about her past, current and future projects.

He hadn't lied when he'd said he was a fervent supporter of her company since day one, and by the end of his speech about how visionary her latest developments in the wizarding technology department had been, Hermione was happy to give him the possibility to be added to the list of her friends in the future.

She'd knocked herself down non-stop for five years: at first, gathering enough money to survive and getting her muggle business degree, while working at her research on magical cores and the proper way to fully channel it into still, non-magical objects at the same time. She'd accomplished quite some achievements, and some of them were so prestigious she would have never dreamed about them as a child.

Maybe Hermione wasn't too happy with the way her personal life had turned out to be, but she was surely proud of the _empire_ she'd managed to build for herself.

With an annual net income that overthrew any other company in both the muggle and the wizarding world, under the alias of Victoria Sallow she'd made possible something wizards had put their efforts into for centuries.

Hermione had always been intrigued my _magical cores_ : it was the place where a wizard or witch's magic was believed to reside in, and medieval sources claimed it to be the heart, according with their muggle counterparts for once.

She hadn't bought it, though. Influenced by muggle philosophy, one of her guilty pleasures, and especially _rationalism_ , Hermione had focused her research on the human mind, instead.

A huge grin appeared on her face anytime she thought about the dismissing attitude some teachers or Order members had displayed when she'd wanted to discuss the argument with them.

Once she'd located her magical core and figured out a way to manipulate it, a _world_ of possibilities had opened in front of her, and Hermione had made all the right calls. She'd soon used her new source of power to experiment with Muggle technology, rendering it perfectly functioning in wizarding environments.

All that she needed to do was to remove an infinitesimal portion of magic directly from her core, then link it to the object.

It was certainly really tiring, but not damaging, as magical cores had the peculiar ability, like she'd discovered, to continuously regenerate themselves.

After some complex spell work, the wonders of muggle technology, which had been progressing non-stop in the past twenty years, were suddenly wizard-friendly.

 _It had been a Revolution_.

The Australian wizarding community had been the one to benefit the most from _MagiTech_ 's foundation.

Not only she'd employed thousands and thousands of Australian wizards and witches, she'd also made their lives much easier.

Australia was very different from England: there wasn't such a strict separation between the muggle and wizarding world, though they were still subjected to the _Statute of Secrecy_ , and there was only _one_ completely magical city not far from Sidney. Wizards and muggles lived their lives side by side and Hermione had found just the perfect market to sell her ( _re_ )inventions.

Before the end of _MagiTech_ 's second year, Hermione had stopped converting and started designing her own technology.

There were usually two versions of each item, one destined to wizards and one destined to muggles, and between both markets, which she dealt with from two completely different facilities, she'd become one of the richest women and witches in the world by the age of twenty-three.

Last year, she'd celebrated her expansion to the United States by opening the first wizarding _social network_ , and right now she was looking forward to further grow in Europe, starting precisely from England.

"Now that we're becoming _buddies_ ", Blaise chirped, abruptly pulling her out of her thoughts. "Would you mind telling me where can I find one of _those_?", he asked, his fingers pointing at the telephone with which Theodore's hands were currently playing.

Hermione chuckled. It was the latest version of one of _MagiTech_ 's _best-sellers_ , and it was the wizarding one, which meant that it could make and receive calls to both muggle and wizarding phones. The internal features of the software, however, were arranged to be _Statute-Of-Secrecy_ - _proof_.

If a muggle happened to find the device, it would change its appearance to the muggle version, working very similarly to the glamour charm placed on Hogwarts, the one that prevented muggles from coming too close.

"Let me rephrase it", Blaise said. " _Where can I find twenty?_ "

Hermione almost drowned in the half glass of water that had been served with her coffee. "Twenty?", she frowned. "What can you possibly want to do with twenty?"

"Only one or two, well, let's say _three_ are for me. The others I was thinking to give Ginny and my friends, so that I can finally communicate with all people in the same way and finally get rid of most of my paper mail. Those little things are impossible to find in England. _Yet, I hope_ ", he winked. "We can only buy muggle versions, and shipping is super slow, not to mention expensive".

"One week is hardly slow, Blaise", Hermione retorted.

"For a wizard, that's like ten years", he retorted. " _Pretty please_ ", he pouted.

Hermione sighed, but ultimately nodded her consent. "Fine. I'll let you have them as soon as possible. Hopefully, I'll get my hands on them before the party on Tuesday".

"What party?", he inquired.

"Ginny hasn't told you?", she answered back. "I'm moving out of Pansy's, today. Tuesday I'll have my first small party, just some old friends I haven't seen in a while".

The witch turned her head to her brother, grabbing his arm and gently tugging at it to gain his attention, which she noticed she already had.

Theo looked like he was frozen in place, his gaze fixed on her.

"Speaking of which, I was waiting to see you in person to ask you if you'd like to come", she invited him.

They had exchanged a couple of text over the last days, but other than _awkward_ , they'd also felt extremely _impersonal_.  
It wasn't like when she talked to Pansy, that she could precisely picture any expression of her face depending on her words and see her scowl behind the laughter written on the display.

"You two are welcome to come, too", she added when the silence became awkward. "And you're wife, too, Gregory".

Malfoy and Goyle were sporting an attitude very similar to Theodore's, looking at her like she was a ghost.

Draco was the first to recover. "I'm afraid I'm not aware of my plans for Tuesday night, but usually I bring Adhara to see a movie. Plus, I just discovered you have the resources not only to punch me, but to erase my existence. Maybe it's better if we take _baby-steps_ ", he declined.

"Using my resources to hunt you down would mean I hold a grudge, Malfoy, which I don't. I discovered a long time ago that spite is the fastest way to poison someone's soul", she said. "Baby-steps are fine with me, though. I was only just asking to be polite, and because I feel like Theodore would be more comfortable if some of his friends are attending too".

"That I would be", Theo confirmed. "I think Weasley has left my fan-club after I punched him".

" _Ron won't be there_ ", she informed him. "Lavender will", she icily added.

"I'm afraid I'll have to refuse, too", Goyle added, his hands looking into his pockets, from where he grabbed a handful of Galleons. "Tracey and I are leaving for a short holiday tomorrow. It's the first time we get to spend some time alone since the birth of Alexis".

Then the man raised on his feet, ready to take his leave.

"I look forward to see you again when we come back, Hermione. Maybe you could come for dinner at our place", he added. "I never properly thanked you for getting me out of the Room of Requirement, that day. If you didn't, I wouldn't have been alive to save Tracey and now I wouldn't be married to the love of my life. _Thank you, truly_. And congratulations on your achievements, too. I'm sure our teachers would be very proud if they knew".

After saying that he was gone, leaving Hermione sincerely astonished by his latter sentences.

She barely remembered saving him during the Battle of Hogwarts, and she certainly wasn't expecting his gratitude.

She'd have done the same for anyone else.

No students were supposed to die for a war much older wizards and witches had wanted.

No matter their beliefs or upbringing, she had been determined to raise her wand against them only with defensive and healing purposes, and that was exactly what she had done.

"As Ginny's date or not, I'll be happy to attend", Blaise chirped. "As moral support for Theodore, of course".

Both his friends cocked a brow.

"That's great", Hermione replied, noticing but ultimately ignoring their silent exchange.

"Where are you moving in?", Theo asked.

"I'm not supposed to tell _people_ that", she hastily replied. "There's a very complex _Fidelius Charm_ on it, one that will be temporarily lifted on Tuesday to allow my guests to come and go. Though in the invitations I asked them to take the floo, if possible".

Besides Theodore's wound expression, which she could see very clearly in the corner of her left eye, and Draco's open scowl, Hermione knew that her words sounded weird the moment she pronounced them.

 _What kind of person doesn't even tell her brother where she lives?_

"If you're free to lunch, though", she added. "That's where I'm headed. There are some final papers I'm supposed to sign. My lawyer will be there, too, now that I think about it. Yeah, you should _definitely_ come".

"Why do you want Theodore to speak with your lawyer?", Draco inquired.

"That's really none of your business", she retorted, throwing an annoyed glance in his direction.

There was something about the way he was sitting on the edge of his chair, his stormy eyes not avoiding confrontation, that was driving her mad.

Like she'd said, Hermione wasn't holding a grudge to Malfoy.

She hadn't think about the lad for years, and even when Pansy had brought him up she hadn't paid more attention than necessary.

The former Slytherin witch had actually succeeded in making her develop some empathy for Draco, telling her stories about their lives and the many ways he'd helped her during the years, but now that she was talking to him… Well, perhaps she _really_ wanted to punch him again.

But not for their past.

This time she wanted to punch him just because he kept scrutinizing her with his cold, cold eyes, making her feel small and insecure.

It was a sentiment she hadn't experienced in the longest time, and she wasn't enjoying it one bit.

"Theodore is my best friend. I'm afraid anything that concerns him is my business, especially since I'm the one who was with him while he was desperately looking for you, but I was also there anytime you gave him the cold shoulder".

" _Draco_ ", Theodore hissed, " _That's enough_ ".

"Yeah, Malfoy, that's enough", Hermione repeated. "Because now I really am about to punch you again. But just to be clear, the reason I want him to talk with my lawyer is because I'm including him in my will, you _asshole_ ".

Everyone at the table froze, even Blaise, who had been occupied pretending to look outside of the mirror and not listening to the delicate topics discussed in his proximities.

" _Don't mind me, then, Granger_ ".

Hermione's cheeks were red, impotent casualties of her rage.

It was just like when they were students. His dumb smirk and her dumbest need to prove him wrong.

She'd never understood why, of all people, Draco Malfoy had always been the one to hit all her pathetic nerves.

She looked at the watch on her wrist. It was 11 a.m. already.

Almost two hours had passed without her noticing, and it was almost time she met with her solicitor.

"You know what? Why don't you come with us?", she proposed. "Just so you can be sure I'm not trying to trick him into joining my plan for world domination, though I believe that's something more in your cords than mine".

She hadn't meant for her words to sound this harsh, but _ego_ was a funny little game Hermione had always been good at playing.

And now her best _playmate_ was back in her life.

" _Can't deny a lady your company when she asks for it twice, can you?_ ", he smirked.

She scowled. "You're welcome to join us, Blaise. Someone needs to prevent me from _murdering_ him, too", she pointed at Draco with her head.

The blond wizard seemed to know better than react to her open defiance, because he spoke no further.

Theodore grabbed his wallet from the back of his pocket, leaving a handful of Gallons on top of their receipt.

Once he was sure that summed with Goyle's they would cover the entire cost of their breakfast, he raised from his seat.

"We should start going".

* * *

Thirty minutes later they were using the floo network at the Leaky Cauldron to reach Hermione's new apartment.

She landed first, and when the three wizards appeared on her back she was still admiring her new, fancy living-room.

If her most instinctive reaction was being impressed, she quickly covered it.

Of course her new house would be beautiful, considering how much she'd paid for fixing it to her liking in such a short time.

She'd taken the decision after dinner at Pansy's, when hearing her friend and Harry making love to each other had kept her awake until 3 a.m.

The floo kindled once more, as another guest arrived.

"Good morning, Ms. Sallow", a man about her age greeted. "I'm here for that change in your testament you asked me to arrange".

He was Hermione's most trusted lawyer.

"Welcome to my new house, Dylan", she welcomed him with a big smile. "Hope your journey was comfortable".

"Very enjoyable. Your personal PortKey is definitely worth what you paid for it. I wonder why you needed this flat for, though, the house I landed in seemed just as fine".

Hermione turned her head on the former Slytherins, who had followed their exchange in silence. They were probably confused, as she hadn't mentioned another house.

"Yeah, well… that's the house I grew up in. It's the only reason I haven't sold it yet. But I can't imagine myself living in there", she trailed off as her thoughts became too painful. "Anyway, it's a pleasure to introduce you to my brother. This is Theodore Nott", she pointed at him as she said so. "Theodore Nott, this is Dylan Dorne. And you can drop the act, now. I met these people when Victoria Sallow didn't even exist".

"It's nice to meet you, Theodore", Dylan replied, extending his arm as he offered his hand for the shaking. " _Hermione_ has told me about... _you_ ".

Despite his charming attitude, Hermione knew what the brown-haired man thought about the whole situation.

He was a Muggle-born wizard, just like her, but he hadn't grown up next to Harry Potter, so he wasn't really used to witness the impossible as it happened.

Dylan Dorne had been one of her first and only friends when she'd arrived in Australia five years before, but also one of the most logical people she'd ever met.

It didn't surprise her that he didn't believe a brother of her had suddenly appeared out of nothing.

"It's nice to meet you, too", said Theodore, accepting his hand. "Hermione has mentioned you would be here, though I'm not sure I understood why".

Dylan sneered, then proceeded to introduce himself to Draco and Blaise.

"Maybe we should sit", proposed Hermione, gesturing to the black leather sofa in front of the fireplace.

It was standing on top of a dark, richly woven carpet, in the middle of which was a cocktail table made of glass that would have given them plenty of space for writing and signing purposes.

"From now on, what you're about to hear is _strictly confidential_. To preserve my client's interests, I suggest both your _brother_ and his friends take an _Unbreakable Vow_ not to speak with everyone who doesn't already know about the things that will be said without your explicit consent. I would also recommend they vow not to use the new information in their possession to hurt you or your company".

" _Wow, wow… Wow_. That's a lot, Dylan. I don't think all this fuss is necessary. I'm not about to give them the _formula_ , and Theodore is not trying to steal from me".

"Neither was Lex Martin, as I recall you saying. You're about to give him rights to your formula in case you die. We'll have to test both your DNAs and see if you're really related in any way, though I personally doubt it", he retorted.

"We'll take the Vow", Blaise jumped in. "We don't want to hurt Granger, or _MagiTech_. Just make it quick, this is practically a _dream_ coming true for me and you're _pissing_ on it, Mr. Dorne".

" _Can't you see it, Hermione?_ ", the lawyer snapped. "He basically admitted they were _planning_ this! _How can you be so stupid?_!"

Silence fell on the room at the end of his outburst.

Everyone was looking at Hermione, who was taking deep breaths, her head slightly bowed down.

The look in her eyes promised nothing good when it found its target in Dylan.

"Are you done? I already told everything you needed to know to understand that this is _real_. I'm changing my will. I'm giving him a share of _MagiTech_. That's it", she sternly said, her face crunched up in a serious expression. "I won't force him to get his DNA tested. There is a reason if I'm famous for my brain around here", she added. "If this was some scheme to drain my fortune, I would have noticed. Not to mention he discovered about _MagiTech_ no longer than two hours ago. Now take the stupid _Vow_ if you must and be done with it".

She'd practically barked her orders, but then her face relaxed and she almost looked like nothing had happened.

The Slytherins were about to mock Gryffindor's ease of forgiveness when she smiled.

" _Oh_ , and if you speak to me like that ever again, especially in public, I won't care if we've been friends for five years. _You'll be fired_ ".

She watched him blinking and gulping at her warning. They'd fought many times in the past, but she'd never threatened to drop him as a lawyer.

"He'll still have to take the DNA test. The _board_ required it".

"You told the board?", she incredulously asked. " _Oh, my, God_. You did!"

"I had to. It's a serious change that you're considering. And he'll be part of the board, too, if you give him those shares. I'm with them on this one. If this thing turns against you, they won't back you up without proof. I've done some digging about him, our analysts are almost sure that the wizarding side of _MagiTech_ will lose a lot of money when the press eventually discovers his identity and therefore your father's. I've reading a lot about England in the past weeks, I believe a war happened not too long ago that you never mentioned to me".

"Neither did the media of your country", she retorted. "We'll have our blood tested, then".

"It won't be necessary", Dylan smirked.

"Then what have we been discussing until now?"

"I mean that testing if you're related won't need an actual test of your blood. There's a spell for it, it's very ancient and experts claim it has _ninety-nine_ percent of accuracy".

"It's not perfectly accurate. How will you know we don't belong to the one percent failed by the spell?", Hermione mused.

"Because it has only allegedly failed in saying that people who claimed to be related were not. Experts think that they were children born out of wedlock for the most part", he replied with a smirk. "Shall we begin?"

It took approximately fifteen minutes for the _Vows_ to be done with, but before Hermione could finally tell her brother what actually was going on, she still had to wait for Dylan to perform the _Family Charm_.

It didn't look particularly complex in terms of wrist gestures or casting words, but from the frown on the lawyer's face and the tiny drops of sweat on his forehead as he performed it, she concluded that it definitely required a lot of focus to be done properly.

The light coming out of Dylan's wand turned from white to golden, then enveloped Hermione and Theodore, who were sitting next to each other on her sofa, holding hands without even noticing.

Hermione was the first to recover. "Are we done?"

"I owe you an apologize, Hermione", Dylan muttered after a couple of moments of silence. "I owe you one, too, apparently, Theodore. I hope we can start fresh".

Draco scoffed from his seat on one of the chairs as Theo nodded.

"Can I know why I took an _Unbreakable Vow_ now? You know, that thing actually _kills_ you. The least you can do is satisfy my curiosity, Granger".

She smirked. "That I can do".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
...and chapter fifth is UP!  
I hope you enjoyed it. :))  
Some of the mysteries of this story are starting  
to unfold, and another OC has been introduced:  
Dylan Dorne. What do you think of him so far?  
He isn't someone I planned to create, that  
scene kind of wrote itself (?), and then ideas  
regarding him have started popping into my mind,  
so it's very possible you'll hear about him again.  
And Lex, too. If you're interested in seeing what  
he looks like, visit godisawitchfic on tumblr, he's  
under the muggle-born and gold generation filters.  
Lex, too. They're very handsome imho.  
(16.09.18 ** _blog update_ : +15 **instagram concepts; **  
+1** WitchWeekly covers; **+33** characters'portraits).  
Last but not least...  
I've already written the following chapter, so you  
should expect an update around Thursday.  
It contains the first real Dramione scene, so...  
stay tuned! :))


	6. NIGHTCALL

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **6.**

 **NIGHTCRAWLER**

.

" _I'm gonna tell you something you don't want to hear,  
I'm gonna show you where is dark, but have no fear  
there's something inside you, it's hard to explain  
they're talking about you, boy, but you're still the same_"

* * *

 ** _WizVille n. 23, London, July 11_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

Draco sat in the incredibly fancy living room with a sneer on his lips.

The only reason he was there was to check up on Theo, whom lately had seemed very off his usual track, but Granger's attorney had pissed him off beyond reason and now the only thing he wanted was to leave.

On top of all, he didn't know where he was, exactly. They'd arrived by floo, shouting "Victoria Street n. 23, London", meaning the only thing he was certain of is that they were still in England, precisely the capital. From the name of the apartment he hadn't been able to gather if they were still in the wizarding world, and the view outside the window behind Hermione's back, though gorgeous, wasn't helping.  
He remembered being on a Victoria Street in London once, while he was living with the muggles, but couldn't recognize nothing on the panorama.

Speaking of gorgeous views, the only witch in the room had grown up rather well in the five years she'd disappeared. He'd noticed the first time she'd seen her, but now that he was no longer weirded out by her blue eyes, as he'd remembered their precise shade of brown quite vividly despite the time and distance, Draco could finally take the time to really look at her, as she revealed yet another detail of her mysterious story.

"As people liked to laugh about, I really loved to study. No matter the subject or the topic, I was ready to keep my ass on the chair and learn everything that was there to know. Around third year I stumbled upon a research on magical cores, written by a wizard called _Lord Klaus_ around five centuries ago. It wasn't very detailed, in all honesty it was a bunch of crap, but the issue really captured my attention. I consulted most of the books about this subject in the Hogwarts' library, which is a lot, trust me. Around fifth year I already had my guesses about the location of my magical core".

Expect for Dylan, who obviously already knew, everyone's jaws dropped.

"You had what?", Blaise and Theodore asked simultaneously.

"Well, yeah. I've always been very in tune with my magic, almost like I could touch it. I tried asking some of our teachers if they could tell me what they thought about my theory, but most of them just dismissed me and told me to focus on my real homework. With the war I had to stop my research, but as soon as I was settled in Sydney, when my job and my schooling allowed it, I started working on it again. I'll never tell what _substances_ I was under the night I found the missing piece of the puzzle, but it happened shortly before Pansy's arrival".

Zabini, who was sitting on Draco's right, blinked. "You just… got _high_ and found your magical core?"

"Pretty much, yeah. But I had a precise idea of what I was looking for. As I had discovered, you need to be very relaxed to access it. Anyway, that's not my point. What I found is a way to manipulate it, to voluntarily and purposefully separate the magic and its wizard…".

Saying they were impressed wasn't enough.  
What she had accomplished was something the average wizard or witch, them included, would have never even dreamed of. It was labelled as _impossible_.

It was a lot for Draco to take in. Not only she'd always bested him in all classes no matter how hard he studied, she had also been on the right side of the war, been tortured inside of his family home, and had eventually testified in his favour. Now she had to further prove she was a magical genius, too.

When it came to make Draco feel small, no one was better than Hermione Granger.

It didn't matter how hard he'd worked to put his past aside, anytime he looked at her face, whose expressions had remained the same despite the changes in her features, it all came back to haunt him. She was a living, breathing reminder of the fact he didn't deserve to be happy.

Two years with the muggles were hardly enough punishment for the things he'd done, like the incident with Katie Bell or bringing Death Eaters and a werewolf into the castle while trying to kill his Headmaster, and those he hadn't, like killing his bitch of an aunt for touching the brightest witch of her age or accepting Dumbledore's help, no matter how dangerous his role as a spy could have been.

Wishing things had gone differently also put him in the awful position of feeling like the worst father ever, because if he'd done so then Adhara would have never existed. That was something he could never wish for.

Being a single father at the age of twenty-three was hard.

Draco had been put to test more than once, but so far, he'd always succeeded.  
His little princess was very much in love with him and she wanted the moon, all she had to was asking for Draco to give it to her.  
The Malfoy vaults obviously helped in that sense.

"…and that's the secret behind MagiTech".

"Basically, if something happens to you Theodore gets this formula?", he asked.

"Not exactly", Dylan scowled, his dark eyes fixed on Draco's. "When Hermione dies, and that will happen many decades from now, the people she has personally chosen will have to vote if they either want to keep the formula secret, and therefore keep MagiTech in complete monopoly, or share it with the rest of the wizarding world. As you can imagine, such technology can create great things, but also terrible weapons".

"You could make an Horcrux without the murdering part", Blaise muttered, vocalizing what they were all thinking.

"Precisely", Hermione nodded. "I forgot to mention that cores regenerate themselves in short periods of time, making it an almost endless source of power. I'm glad Voldemort was gone when I discovered about it, but mostly that Bellatrix jumped over that part of my life when she forced herself into my mind. Not that she would have given much thought to the theories of a _Mudblood_ ".

Draco's cheeks had turned a funny shade of pink.

He couldn't say if it was embarrassment, as he'd done nothing to stop the witch from torturing her, or anger, which he felt as he relived the memory.  
By the point the war had started, and the Golden Trio had been brought to Manor after saying the V-word, the young Malfoy heir had already dropped his beliefs about Purebloods' supremacy.

The blood of the teacher _He_ had killed in his dining room was just the same shade of red as his, and his years at Hogwarts, constantly challenged by Muggleborn extraordinaire Hermione Granger, had taught him that the magic of someone with non-magical parents could be just as strong as his.

Even stronger, though in Granger's case, apparently, their blood was the same on one more level.

He didn't care about it anymore, how he really could while being the father of a Half-blood child, but now she was part of a dynasty just as much as he was, descending from not only the powerful, ancient House Nott, but also coming from one of the most respected wizarding families in all England, House Greengrass, because of her mother.

He was sure she still didn't have a clue about what that meant, and Theodore would never pressure her into anything, but he could already picture Pureblood committees trying to fetch her for beauty pageants and tea parties, and the outcome was always really funny in his mind.

 _She could definitely improve standards there_ , he thought.

"If you please sign your name here", Dylan motioned one paper towards Theo, "Here and here", he gave him two more papers, "Twenty-five percent of MagiTech is yours immediately".

"I, umh… _Wow_ ", Theo started, giving no sign of picking up the quill. "I'm not after your money, Hermione", he said, throwing his sister a serious look.

"Oh, but I know that", she beamed. "That's why I'm giving it to you. Besides, I don't care about my money either, not anymore. I have billions and still counting".

"Since we're talking about properties and your lawyer is here, then, I have something I want to give to you, too. I thought it was too soon, but better be done with it, right?"

"I'm afraid I don't understand you", she admitted, her eyes widened.

"As you probably already know, most Pureblood families are very, very rich. Our names were established centuries ago in our society, and despite the fact we've been cast outside in the past years, that kind of power and recognition always come with a lot of money. There are some exceptions, of course, like the Weasleys. But our family always worked hard to be on top of the society chain. The Nott Foundation is half yours by birth-right, Hermione. It's the only reason I kept it alive, before I discovered about you I was happy to let that ship sink. I'm sure I can have the papers sent to Dylan before the end of next week".

"Yeah, about the Nott Foundation", she trailed off, uncertain. "I've had someone look into it after the reunion. I know that _investigating_ you was a bit extreme, but I was curious to know what you were doing and, well, my analysts always go into detail when I ask them for a personal favour. I still don't understand how you managed to close last year with a positive balance. I had access to all public economic records of your business and by last September you had lost four times what you had earned".

"The war has backlashed tremendously on the company. Most wizards and witches don't want to do business with us, and inside the Foundation they're still too loyal to my father to really carry out the changes I disposed. Like I said, the only reason I didn't let it just die is because it's a decision we have to make together".

"Maybe we shouldn't talk about this just now", she frowned. "I'm getting very comfortable with the idea that you're my brother, Theodore, but…"

"You're still uncomfortable with the family we came from", he finished for her.

Hermione lowered her eyes to the tip of her shoes, betrayed by her flushing cheeks in her attempt to play it cool. "Well, I-"

"Hey, it's ok", said Theodore as he put two fingers under her chin, forcing her to look directly at him. "I found out you were alive three years later than I should have just because I didn't want nothing to do with our father and I kept burning his letters as soon as they arrived. If there's someone who understands not wanting to be part of this family, that's me. But now our family is just _you and me_ , so there's nothing you should really worry about".

The witch didn't reply and grabbed the quill from the table, handing it to him.

"You have something to sign before we speak of anything else. I won't rest until I know my legacy is in good hands".

Theodore reluctantly signed the papers after reading what was written on them.

Draco tried to peek at the documents from his seat on the other side of the table, but the only thing he could grasp was that there was a lot written on them and that the numbers, which he couldn't read precisely, had lots of zeros.

"There's one more thing", Granger smirked. "I bought you a gift".

"You really didn't have to", her brother scolded.

"I wanted to", she cut him short, looking for something in her big, black bag.

When she gave Theo the last paper, Draco and Blaise immediately wondered why his cheeks had turned red.

Their unspoken question was answered when he wrote down his name for the last time, and then handed the deed of property to them. Their eyes widened.

" _You bought him WitchWeekly_?"

* * *

Tuesday had eventually arrived.

Draco couldn't quite picture why just yet, but it seemed like time speeded up since Hermione Granger had bounced back into his existence.

Many things were changing in his life, in the lives of his friends and in those of all witches and wizards in England.

Theodore had decided to finally take a well-deserved leave from the job he hated so much, as now he finally had his sister by his side to help him deal with the future of their family's legacy. Draco was happy for him, he knew Theo had always wanted to do something special with his life, though he had no idea precisely what, and now that he was free from the chains he'd voluntarily put on his wrists, he could do anything he wanted.

Especially considering just how much money he'd now gain possession of.

If Draco had been suspicious at first, when she'd mentioned her lawyer, now he felt ashamed for thinking she wanted to trick him or steal something from him.

He couldn't believe he had managed to be a prejudiced arse towards Hermione Granger once again. It felt like he needed to apologize, which was probably the reason why he was now standing in her floo, dust all over his shoes, his eyes quickly scanning the room for the witch.

Her party was supposed to start in an hour, so Draco had figured no early guests would already be there by then.

" _Granger_?", he called.

When he had said he wasn't going to come and that they should take baby-steps in getting acquainted to each other, Draco had meant any word.

Then Jennifer, Adhara's aunt, had called.

She was the one who had called to tell him Jessica was dead and Adhara was very much alive.

He'd figured out the child was his own the moment he'd heard her name, as he'd told her mother about the Black's family tradition of naming their heirs after stars and constellations, and when the Healer at St. Mungo's had performed the _Family Charm_ so that he could properly recognize her as his daughter, he'd been one hundred percent sure.

He hadn't known about Jennifer's existence in the almost two years her sister had been his girlfriend. As the former had explained him, the two were not very close.

Over the past three and a half years he'd got to know her pretty well and discovered things about Jessica's life that he'd never suspected.

Though most of what he'd heard wasn't pleasing, he definitely felt less guilty for lying to her about his past and identity for the whole duration of their relationship.

Adhara's dead mother wasn't the only reason he'd grown closer with the muggle woman.

The high-trained Healers in the wizarding hospital couldn't tell if his daughter was a witch or a squib, and Draco didn't want his child to find herself as lost as he'd been when he'd first entered the muggle world.

He was positive there was magic in her, and as a wizard he knew there was no better feeling that your magic rushing inside your blood.

Just in case it actually didn't, though, he had taken his precautions.

He was determined to give her the best life possible, no matter the circumstances.  
Just as much as she spent time with Narcissa, and lately Lucius, surrounded by magic, she spent time with Jennifer and her offspring.

That's why he couldn't say no when the woman had called him yesterday, inviting Adhara for the week of fun she'd planned for her family.

At first, Draco had refused, but then he'd seen his daughter's face lightening up with joy as soon as she recognized the voice coming out of the phone.

So now he missed his daughter, his Tuesday night's plan had been cancelled, and he was standing in Hermione Granger's living room looking so circumspect anyone would have thought he was about to steal something.

" _Malfoy_?"

The voice came from the bottom of a staircase he hadn't noticed the first time he'd been there, as he'd left before she could give them the house-tour.

"The wards alerted me someone arrived", she dipped her head in greeting. "Never thought it would be, well, _you_ ".

Draco struggled to keep his face emotionless as he took in her appearance.

The witch was wearing a light mauve dress that barely reached half of her thighs: it was completely made of lace, with tiny sparks of light embroidered in the fabric and a deep V-neckline. Her hair was tied up on the back of her head in a soft up-do-braid. She'd meticulously applied make-up to her face and a caramel nude lipstick was on her lips.

She looked positively stunning, and for a moment he thought he had completely misunderstood her invitation.

 _Hadn't she said it was a small party for her new house with a couple of friends she hadn't seen in a while?_

Though Draco wasn't sure where he exactly fitted in that category, as he was just Theo's best mate and the guy who had belittled her during their school years, it was undeniable that the gathering she'd organized for that evening was a little over the top.

Besides her smashing general look, the entire living room, which was already _very_ luxurious, had been embellished with rich, black and white fabrics and pieces of artwork. Behind the couch was now towering a giant, modern-design piano. Black and white, lighted candles were placed on every free surface, and one corner of the room, where previously there was a library, was entirely occupied by a dark-grey, marble counter where a bar area had been equipped. Next to it, a large table displayed an immaculate buffet.

"The bartender hasn't arrived yet", she said when she noticed what Draco was looking at. "But I'm sure I can fix you a drink".

She walked her way from the stairs to the marble counter with grace and didn't waver on her high heels once.

" _FireWhisky_ will do it".

" _FireWhisky_ at four in the afternoon? Don't you have a child to go back to?", she mused as she popped open the bottle, pouring two half glasses before she handed one to him.

"Not this week. I'm apparently on vacation from my parental duties for six more days. She's spending some time with her mother's sister's family".

It was probably the first time in their lives they had an eye-to-eye conversation, talked alone without his or her friends being present, without their old sneers and insults thrown in the mix. Draco was surprised by just how easy it was to be civil to her.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about what happened. I couldn't believe it when Theo told me, but I have to say it takes some gut to take care of a child at such a young age…", she trailed off, biting her lower lip.

Draco promptly got her out of her impasse. "The first brave act of my life", he raised his glass mockingly, then threw all its content down his throat in a huge, swift sip.

Hermione scowled, then replied his gestures and filled both their glasses once again before circumnavigating the bar and sitting on the stool next to him.

"You have to start somewhere".

"I wish I started sooner", he retorted, a bitter expression on his face. "At least I wouldn't feel bloody guilty anytime I look at her. Or you, for that matter".

"Me? I'm not sure I'm following you, Malfoy".

"Can't you see it? I've been such a bastard to you that you can't even say my name", he snapped. "I steadily and purposefully haunted you for years, and now I collect what I sowed".

"First of all, I'm pretty sure you almost completely stopped after our fourth year, focusing on Harry and Ron instead, and though I never approved or understood your behaviour, you were just as awful to them as they were to you. At least when it came to our time in school", she analysed out loud, a pensive look on her face. "For what it concerns the war, as I said at your trial I don't really blame you for your part in it. You were a victim of circumstances, and you couldn't have done it any differently. If you had taken Dumbledore's offer you would probably be dead by now, even less you would be a father".

Hermione finished her second glass of FireWhisky, then unconsciously grabbed his arm and forced Draco to look her in the eyes.

"I wonder how any of that can have something to do with your child, though. And to address your concerns, Malfoy, I think you still don't call me by my given name, too".

Draco blinked. "Theodore hasn't told you, then?"

"Theodore hasn't told me what?"

"Adhara's mother was _muggle_. I could never stand if someone ever tells her something that sounds even remotely like the things I said to you in the past".

Hermione's expression empathetically softened.

"Nobody will, Malfoy. Things have changed since in the past five years. The Ministry is doing anything in their power to prevent things like that from happening again, and even though I don't generally agree with their methods, they're succeeding. Nobody will ever harass her over her blood status".

"Maybe they won't", he conceded with a pensive look. "But they will harass her because she's a Malfoy".

Draco saw her gulping and quickly got a hold on what she was thinking about.

Narcissa had told her son what had happened the day before, when she'd finally convinced herself to visit her favourite tea-room in Diagon Alley, a lovely little shop not far from Ollivander's, only to see the new owner's sneer in her face and tell her that _Death Eater's wives were not welcome_.

Draco's heart had broken when he had spotted tears in his mother's eyes while she described just how much she'd felt embarrassed: a crowd of curious people had gathered in front of the shop to assist to the confrontation, and nobody had uttered a single word in her defence, not even the Pureblood ladies she was used to take her tea with, who had just arrived.

Narcissa had been ready to dis-apparate, never to leave the Manor again, when Hermione Granger had emerged from the dark and grabbed her arm under hers, then turned to the owner of the tea-room with an icy look and asked if there was a problem with her reservation.

She didn't have one, but no one in Diagon Alley could say no to the war-heroine and have their sales surviving the backlash of such public disgrace.

As soon as Madam Felicity had opened her door, muttering curses under the breath but ultimately granting them access, Hermione had turned on her heels and treated Narcissa with Florean Fortescue's homemade pastry and tea flavours.

No one had visited the Tea-Room for the rest of the afternoon, and most people in the crowd who'd witnessed Lady Malfoy's struggle had then followed the unlikely pair to the Ice-Cream Parlour. A picture of the two of them was even in that morning's Prophet, with more allegations about Hermione's possible connections to the dark side.

"Thank you for standing up for my mother, yesterday. I'm afraid she hasn't been able to do that for herself in a long time", he admitted after a while.

Expressing is gratitude for her actions the day before had actually been the reason why he'd ultimately decided to come, besides the fact he was bored and Adhara was temporarily gone.

"I think you underestimate her, then". The witch smiled. "We've talked quite a lot, your mother has very fascinating points of view on most subjects".

"That she does", he admitted. "When Father was sent to Azkaban the first time…", he trailed off, trying to ignore the stinging pain in his chest. "Well, I learnt she was the parent whose opinions actually made sense. She was raised to be a quiet, obedient wife who doesn't question her husband too much. Though that was never her style, it was after our fifth year that I really saw her take the bull by the horns, as the muggles say. What I'm trying to say is not that she's weak, but that she's tired".

"That can be fixed. She's very happy to have her husband by her side again, I'm sure that once she understands that the pieces of her life are finally coming back together, she'll eventually relax".

"Relax, mh. I wonder what that is".

"You have six full days to experience it, and though you probably miss your daughter I'm positive that anyone needs some _me-time_. How long has it been since the last time you did something only for yourself?"

Draco smirked, then emptied his glass once again. Snatching the bottle from the counter, he quickly arranged a re-fill for both Hermione and him.

"Are you trying to _psychoanalyze_ me, Granger?"

"Busted", she chuckled. "But I guess that's an activity that requires wine".

"And the use of our given names", he retorted.

Hermione stuck out her tongue, then suddenly raised from her seat.

"The wards are ringing", she explained after his questioning look. "My first guests are here, I should go and welcome them, now".

"Sure", he conceded, focusing his glaze on the glass in his hands.

Hermione was rushing to the room with the stairs, turning on her right to reach the main entrance of her house as the muggle doorbell rang.

" _Draco?_ "

She'd stopped on her track, slightly turning in his direction.

"Yeah?"

"Help yourself with the mini quiches, they're simply to die for".

* * *

Pansy and Harry arrived first, followed by Theodore five minutes later.

Draco was pleased to see that the first guests to arrive where friendly faces for the most part.

He wasn't sure about Potter, who was checking him out behind his glasses.

Over the years he'd let his beard grow, and it was now completely framing his jaw, connecting with both his moustache and sideburns; his hair had become even wilder than when he was younger, and Draco had no doubt that if the Ministry allowed one of its Aurors, and a _Captain_ nonetheless, it was only because of who he was.

Harry Potter: _The Chosen One_ , _The Boy Who Lived_ , the eleven year old boy who had refused his friendship back in the day.  
His cold shoulder had stained his ego so badly he'd hated the poor load for years, and with a passion.

"Hello, Drake", said Pansy as she quickly gave him two pecks on the cheeks.

"Nice to meet you again, Draco", Harry offered his hand.

He still couldn't believe how fare they'd gone from being each other's school nemesis.

It had started when Draco had been allowed to return to the wizarding world after his two years of probation and blossomed when Harry had taken him under his wing as he trained to become an Auror.

They'd eventually stopped seeing each other with a frequency when he'd discovered about his daughter and left his training.  
It had been Harry himself to suggest it, as his goal had been to become operative on the field all the time: with a child to take care of, maybe constantly putting his life on the line wasn't the best idea. Narcissa had pushed him on the matter, too.

"Harry", he greeted, grabbing his hand and shaking it, then put his other hand on his shoulder and slightly bringing their bodies closer in the kind of _men-hug_ he'd received a lot from the muggles.

Now that he was dating Pansy, Harry Potter seemed determined to finally snatch their friendship from the platonic notch they'd put it in.

That's why he wasn't surprised to wait for the rest of the guests to arrive while drinking with him at the bar, as Pansy gushed over Hermione's outfit, which she'd personally designed once again, and Theodore properly greeted his sister.

"Now that most of us are here, I want to be honest with you", the landlady said after four more people arrived.

Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley had arrived on their own, followed by Blaise Zabini and his sister, Cassandra, who apparently was his date for the night, after a couple of minutes.

Draco made a mental note to ask his friend about his travelling arrangements, as it baffled him that he hadn't come to the party with his so-called soulmate.

Blaise had been really enthusiast about his relationship with the youngest daughter of Arthur and Molly Weasley, and it was a first: he was used to change girls as often as he changed hairstyle, which happened even twice a week sometimes, thanks to a special hair-growth potion and his brilliant genetics.

"The one you're about to attend to just now is not the _real_ party. We are waiting for approximately fifty more people to come, but I can assure that by seven p.m. most of them will be gone, hopefully", Hermione sighed. "With this party I'm making a statement, but most of all I'm stopping any rumors about my alleged secret affair with Theodore, which is why I invited Ms. Skeeter and her photographers to join us. I'm sorry for the inconvenience, but my brother and I thought it was for the best".

At that, nobody said a word of protest.

Draco and Pansy shared a knowing smirk: they'd both noticed that for the first time Hermione had involved Theo in her plans, asking for his help and opinion, and they were pleased by the direction brother and sister were taking.

He wasn't sure about Hermione, but the heir of House Nott definitely needed somebody to lean on.

"I'm sure it'll be fun to watch", mused Blaise before he introduced his sister to Hermione.

Cassandra happened to be just as much of a fan of Hermione as Blaise was, and as soon as everyone who didn't know yet, _Ginny,_ had calmed down, she quickly engaged the witch in a long conversation about MagiTech.

Draco and Harry were joined at the bar by Luna and Pansy, while Blaise and Ginny reached the furthest corner of the room to speak privately as the Greengrass sisters arrived, greeted at the door by Theo.

As far as Draco was concerned, they were keeping up the charade of being engaged, therefore attending the party together so that they raised no suspicions.  
It had been a wise choice, since apparently the press would have been there, too.

Thirty minutes later, guests, who were mainly former D.A.'s members and a couple of personal friends of Granger, had started to arrive.

First, Lavender Brown and both Patil twins, escorted by Gryffindor's cadets Neville Longbottom, Seamus Finnigan and Dean Thomas.

They'd been joined by Anthony Goldstein, whom he knew being part of Potter's personal team of Aurors. His fingers were laced to Parvati's, but his attention was currently on Padma, to whom he was staring at, probably thinking nobody would notice.

Cho Chang arrived escorted by her latest fling, Viktor Krum, so nobody was sure if she'd really got an invitation with her name written on it or if she was just the wizard's date for the event.

Susan Bones sent her Patronus and excused herself for the late notice, but an emergency had come up at St. Mungo's, where she worked as a Healer. Most people threw a glance at Longbottom, her former fiancé, wondering if his presence had something to do with the witch's absence.

Andromeda Tonks and Teddy Lupin stepped out of the floo with those member of the Weasley clan who had decided to go: Molly and Arthur were there, along with George and one of their oldest sons, Charlie, who was visiting his family for the month.

Members of the Ministry had been invited, too.

In the area next to the staircase, Amelia Bones from Magical Law Enforcement was sipping her Elf-wine while sharing pleasantries with the Minister himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt, who had met the owner of the house during the desperate times of war and had grown so fond of the brunette he simply couldn't deny her his attendance, or _anything_ at all.

Scattered around the giant room, Ministry's employees from Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, Magical Games and Sports, Mysteries and Human Resources departments, including Clara Stevens, were asking themselves the reason why they'd been invited to such a personal, intimate party.

Those amidst them who were clever enough figured out it wasn't a personal, intimate party the second Rita Skeeter entered the room, her _WitchWeekly_ reporter's badge proudly displayed on her chest, chin high and personal photographer Dennis Creevey escorting her at his arm.

Another guy, much younger than Colin's brother, was following them step by step with many bags full of equipment in his hands.

The blond journalist was dressed to the nineties, each tuft of her hair carefully curled and pinned to the top of her head.

Her Quick-Notes Quill was floating in the air, very close to its owner.

"It is so nice to see you again, _Rita_ ", Hermione beamed, quickly approaching the woman with Theodore on her side. "I'm sure you already know who _he_ is".

" _Mr. Nott_ ", the older witch put a giant fake smile on her face and held out her hand for him to kiss.

" _Ms. Skeete_ r", he practically _purred_ , but refused to give her what she was expecting.

The exchange was happening in the middle of room, so that anyone could see it and, most of all, hear it.

Dennis had an awkward smile plastered on his face, small flashes of pain passing in his eyes as Rita's nails casually dived into the soft skin of his arm left uncovered by his sleeves.

Draco wished he could roll his sleeves, too, but that was something he allowed himself to do only when he was completely alone.

His friends and family obviously had seen it before, as well as his healer at St. Mungo's, but except for them nobody in the wizarding world had seen it and was still alive to tell it; when he'd been living with muggles he'd explained it as a bad tattoo he'd made while he was very drunk, regretting it as soon as the needle had touched his fair skin.

He supposed the regret part was correct, after all, as he'd never really wanted something as disgusting as _His_ mark on his skin.

He still had nightmares about the things he'd made him feel and only numerous mental breakdowns and Severus teaching him Occlumancy had helped him cope with that small portion of the Dark Lord living in his own body.

Now Tom Riddle was gone, the mark faded and its effects nullified, but if there's one thing Draco had learned in his life was that karma never missed its target when it came to bite him back in the ass for his mistakes.

"I know my invitation was probably _unexpected_ ", he heard Hermione saying.

"Not at all", the blond witch interrupted her, her eyes curiously darting around the room. "I'm invited to parties all the time, that's practically my job since the war has ended".

"That's _peachy_ ", the witch said, sarcastically. "I couldn't help but read that you have noticed Theo and I have grown close recently".

"There was no way I would miss something this obvious", Rita scoffed. "But now I wonder, Mr. Nott, what your fiancé thinks of this…", she gestured her finger between Theodore and Hermione, whose arms were linked.

"… _Arrangement_. I couldn't help but notice that Ms. Greengrass is here, too".

"Daphne would have never missed it", Theodore chirped.

Draco knew his friend way too well to ignore what he was feeling in his gut.

The siblings had planned something big.  
He would have recognized Theo's smirk everywhere, but he had to admit that it suited Granger, who was now sporting an identical one, quite well, too.

"Daphne, _love_ ", he called. "Come here for a second, please".

The blond witch swiftly walked the short distance between herself and the group, grabbing Theodore's other arm and giving him a sweet peck on the cheek.

"We were just telling Rita how happy you are with Hermione joining the family we're building".

The oldest Greengrass sister must had been informed of their plans, because she beamed at the journalist and played along with them.

" _Of course_. We are simply _delighted_ to have Hermione with us. We can finally start talking about marriage and _children_ now that she'd finally here with us".

"I'm afraid my hearing has betrayed me. You were _waiting_ for this to happen? _C-children, you said?_ ", Rita inquired, a frown on her face.

"But of course, Ms. Skeeter! We've been waiting for years now".

At that, the brunette excused herself and left Theo and Daphne to deal with Rita Skeeter.

She quickly rushed to the bottom of the stairs, but Draco didn't miss the look she shared with her brother before she left.

Swiftly, the witch pointed her wand at her throat, whispering the _Sonorus Charm_.

"Good evening, my dear guests. I'm very happy to welcome you in my new house. It's been a long time since I've called this country my home, and though I won't be here permanently, I'll still hang around quite a lot in the future. Many of you are probably confused by what's been printed on the papers in the past few days, as I've been spotted very close to someone I wasn't supposed to even _talk_ to", she said, looking directly at Rita as she spoke the last words.

"I'm not in a relationship with Theodore Nott", she stated, loud and clear.

Many people in the room visibly relaxed after her declaration. Draco was about to give them a piece of his mind when he noticed the calculative smile on her lips.

"Though circumstances I don't find necessary discussing prevented us from finding it sooner, a secret has been kept from us our entire lives".

She wasn't only more cunning than he would have ever thought possible for someone not belonging to Slytherin, Hermione Granger had a flair for the dramatic, too.

" _He is my twin brother_ ".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, guys! I'm very sorry for the late update.  
These days have been crazy af.  
I'm currently studying for an upcoming exam,  
yesterday I moved out of my previous home and  
today I need to unpack and find a place for all  
my stuff (which is a lot). That's why I'll cut  
very short on my notes, hoping to spare more  
time to talk to you on the next chapter.  
I should update this weekend, though I don't  
know when, yet. **Check my tumblr  
** ( **godisawitchfic** & **slytherinvenenum** ),  
I'll probably write it there as soon as I've decided. :))  
The blog has been updated with **6 graphics** displaying  
the characters' Mirror profiles. Hope you like it!

p.s. I need your opinion on something. I'm currently half my way through chapter 9, and I want to start developing one of the secondary plots. So, which characters would you like to see more of? Of the Easter eggs of subplots that I've left in the previous chapters, which one would you like me to open first?

p.p.s. [ **SPOILER** ]: next chapter's title is: " _Majesty_ ".


	7. MAJESTY

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **7.**

 **MAJESTY**

.

" _you better pick another game, try hide-and-seek  
and you might wanna decide to cheat,  
'cause you gotta open your eyes to peek  
am I indeed the last of a dying breed?_"

* * *

 ** _WizVille n. 23, London, July 11_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

"I discovered about it when my father died. It was written in his testament", Theo chimed in, approaching his sister and placing a hand on her back with an affectionate look in his eyes. "I've been looking for her ever since".

Hermione looked at Rita, ready to score yet another point, like any predator would look at its prey.

She was too focused on the journalist's reaction to the news to notice the whispering that occupied most of her guests. Those who didn't seem troubled by her declaration were those who already knew; she fought hard to hide her annoyed frown.

"It's really sad for me to come back in England five years after the war and see there are still so much hatred and prejudice left", she icily commented. "I used to believe that I almost died in the war so that anyone could have a better life after that. I build that for myself, most of my friends did, but there are still people who feel the need to question a _Gryffindor-Slytherin_ romantic relationship, though this is clearly not the case".

It was true, Theodore and her weren't really touched by the problem, but Hermione had to address topic nonetheless.

She'd noticed the glances thrown in Harry and Pansy or Ginny and Blaise's direction whenever they were turned the other way, both at the reunion in Hogwarts and at today's party.

" _How do you live with yourself knowing your father was a Death Eater?_ "

She couldn't pinpoint exactly who asked the question but decided to answer it anyway. This was the time to be blunt, to give her crowd a piece of her mind so that its members could fulfil the purpose they'd been invited for: spread the news in a short amount of time.

"I suppose I live with myself the same way many wizards and witches live with their disgusting _neutrality_ ", she spat. She watched with a satisfied smile as more than one face, especially from the Ministry's employees group, turned bright red with indignancy. "I don't practice the Dark Arts. I've been fighting against them since the very moment I became a student in Hogwarts and I met Harry Potter", she said, and raised her glass in his direction.

She could hear the noise of two cameras shooting pictures and when her eyes scanned the room looking for Dennis Creevey, Hermione noticed that Rita had put him to work. He was photographing the room from different angles, then moved on to the guests, starting from Cho and Viktor, a couple who definitely would have assured the paper he worked for very high sells.

"Theodore doesn't practice them, either. That belongs to people in _our_ family…", she struggled a little while claiming her place in House Nott but did it nonetheless.  
She knew how much her brother suffered from the public disgrace his ( _their_ ) name was facing, and Hermione was very determined to prove people that a name's just a name and they should judge it depending on who was wearing it right now. "…Who are no longer with us. I hope you understand if we ask you to stop spreading such nonsense".

"Now, since that's out of the way, I believe my sister has one more announcement to make", Theo said, perfectly reciting the script they'd agreed upon.

"You're right", she conceded. "Good news always come in pairs, they say".

Hermione stood quiet for a couple of moments, building the right suspense,waiting for her audience to go mad with curiosity.

"As you well know, in the past five years I've been off the radar. That's because I was literally on the other side of the planet. I suppose you're all familiar with the name Victoria Sallow", she trailed off.

Any pause, smile or word of her speech had been discussed thoroughly, both with her lawyer and between the siblings.

" _The C.E.O. of MagiTech? Do you know her?_ "

Rita Skeeter, who had just asked the question, licked her lips with impatience.

" _I am Victoria Sallow_ ", she smirked, then raised her glass at her. "I'm the founder, main owner _and_ C.E.O of MagiTech".

It was really just a mocking gesture, but most people in the room seemed not to understand that, because they soon followed her.

Everyone except Rita, who was openly gasping.

"I'm sure any further questions will be answered in the next Witch Weekly issue, which will feature a double interview with my brother and I. Now, if anyone has a problem with that, or with him, you're free to leave", she warned.

"Enjoy the buffet", added Theodore before they both removed the respective wands for their throats and Hermione dragged him to the bar.

The silence that had followed the end of the speech was quickly replaced by the excited whispering of her guests, who were now exchanging their theories and opinions amongst them.

"I'm still not sure why you just did this", Theo admitted after Max, the bartender she'd hired for the party, handed them two glasses filled with a cocktail of his invention. The liquid was lime-coloured, but surprisingly sweet when it hit his taste buds.

Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure, either. After I told you, I felt like an enormous weight had finally being lifted from my shoulders. Besides, I told you that I have plans for expanding here. If I get the story out, I get to control it. I learned that you need to plan very far ahead if you want _damage control_ to really work".

"Do you think it will?", he asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Relax, now. We only need to announce Rita our checkmate, then we can enjoy our real party as soon as this bunch of hypocrites disappears", she scowled, her eyes darting on a very specific group of people.

"You heard them, too?"

The witch nodded. Yes, she'd heard the disgusting comments they'd made as they were walking not far from them on their way to the bar.

A former Order member insinuated they were pretending to be brother and sister to cover their relationship, proudly stating that they couldn't trick him; his friend, a thirty years old wizard, expressed his concerns about a woman leading a business that big. Victoria Sallow's face wasn't very famous in England, only a handful people had seen it, and he had always assumed she'd fucked her way to the top of the company.

"I don't know if I want to punch him more for his sexism or for his ignorance".

"Just punch him twice", he shrugged. "I'll take the old one".

The worst commentator had been a wizard belonging to the first generation of the Order of the Phoenix, who'd mostly stayed hidden during the second wizarding war and like many others hadn't fought on May 2nd and only came to collect a glory that he hadn't really earned.

Hermione had met him right after the battle and Gulliver Blossom had made an awful impression on her, which had just been confirmed when she'd heard him sharing his theory with the two younger wizards, who had then nodded their approval.

Apparently, Hermione had always knew about her true heritage, had been raised to be a Dark Pureblood princess and had covered his brother's Death Eater activities at the end of the war. He didn't know who exactly she'd slept with in the Ministry to assure his freedom, but he was glad she hadn't been that good of a _whore_ to obtain the same treatment for her father.

She didn't know why Gulliver had such bad feelings in her regards, but she wasn't very touched.

There was nothing true in his words.

She practically lived under the spotlight, being the head, face and soul of MagiTech, and way worst things had been said about her.

Anyone who had opened her mouth to speak ill, fake things about her, though, had been crushed.  
Now it was Mr. Blossom's turn. He was practically begging for it.

Hermione took a sip of her cocktail, then studied Theo's face. Teeth gritted, narrow eyes, tightened jaw. She'd never seen him so pissed off before.

"We have plenty of time to destroy that idiot", she mused, then softly touched his arm to comfort him. "We have another job to finish, first".

* * *

Theo watched her finishing her drink in one, generous sip.

He would have made a mental note of talking to her about her slightly frenetic drinking habits, but then he remembered that the lecture would have been coming from him, which kind of nullified it completely.

He and his friends had discovered the perks of a good buzz at a very young age, and so far they hadn't stopped enjoying a good glass of liquor.

Throwing one last look at Hermione, Theodore emptied his own glass, grabbed her by the hand and dragged her to the other side of the room, where Rita Skeeter was pestering some of their former classmates with questions.

"Ms. Skeeter", he chimed in.

Then he made a gesture to Blaise, who was one of her victims, and the dark-skinned wizard quickly invited his group, made of Neville Longbottom and Padma Patil in addition to Ginny, Luna and his sister, to follow him to the bar.

"Mr. Nott, what a _surprise_ ", Rita chirped through gritted teeth. "And Ms. Granger. _Again_ ", she added.

He had noticed the obvious discomfort the journalist felt whenever Hermione was too close to her, but he couldn't find a single reason for it.

She'd printed some pretty nasty words about the Gryffindor witch before, he remembered the Howlers and cursed packages she'd received during their fourth year, when Rita had written about her alleged gold-digging triangle with Harry Potter and Victor Krum.

Why was Hermione so smug and Ms. Skeeter so sheepish and not the other way around?

"I have one more surprise for you, Rita", Hermione grinned. "My lovely brother, here, is the new owner of WitchWeekly. I'm sure you'll find some space in your schedule to personally cure our interview, right?"

"S-sure", the older witch gulped. "I didn't know about the change in leadership".

"I'm afraid only those in _high positions_ have been notified, yet. _If you know what I mean_ ", she winked. "What about Thursday afternoon?"

"T-Thursday afternoon?"

"For the interview, of course", Theo replied.

Hermione was scaring the hell out of the woman, so his gentleman upbringing had kicked in and he'd rushed to rescue the damsel in distress though he couldn't personally stand her presence.

She was a real snake, pun intended, and it was rare for a Slytherin to use the word as an insult.

"You can show yourself to the door when you're done with the pictures", Hermione icily added. "But I had a _jar_ of sweets prepared for you since you hadn't got a chance to eat".

"I think I'll leave now", Rita hissed, her cheeks flushed with rage. "I'll send you an owl tomorrow to arrange time and place for your… _interview_ ".

After she said that, the journalist grabbed both Dennis and the other assistant by their sleeves and dragged them out of the door.

Nobody had missed their quick exchange once again, and she was positively livid because of the embarrassment they'd put her through.

He and Hermione had to wait for an hour or so for most of the guests to understand it was their time to leave. She'd specifically written in the invitations that the gathering wouldn't be a long one, which is why she'd so oddly placed it in the middle of the afternoon.

Nonetheless, it was half past seven p.m. when the room was clear from all Ministry's employees, middle-aged adults and basically anyone else who wasn't really inner circle for either of the Nott siblings.

Molly and Arthur Weasley had just left, murmuring something about letting young people being young and an early raise the following morning, after engulfing Hermione in a double-sided hug and making her promise she wouldn't disappear again.

They'd always found space in their hearts for their children's friends, but Harry and Hermione were on a completely different level. They were part of their family.

The room changed with a flick of Hermione's wrist.

The giant piano was moved to one corner of the room, more armchairs appeared next to sofa.

She repeated the latter gesture and tables and seats appeared in the area in front of the bar, while in the middle of the room was left enough space for people to dance.

Putting her wand back in the hidden pocket of her dress, she then focused her attention on the modern watch on her arm; it looked like those muggles used to monitor their health and athletic prowess, but when she gently touched the display with her fingertips music started playing from speakers Theo couldn't quite pinpoint.

The song, however, he recognized very soon.

It was from an American guy called Marshall Bruce Mathers III, to whom he'd become acquainted with during the time he'd spent in muggle London.

He'd become prominent in a genre where people like him were somehow discriminated, and he was sure that Hermione had noticed the analogy between the rapper and herself, too.

Not many people knew that during the time Draco had been exiled there, forbidden from speaking to any wizard or witch for the whole two years of his sentence, Theodore and Blaise had lived in Soho, sharing the flat where the younger Malfoy would have later joined them.

The two had even jumped into their blond friend a couple of times, as their tastes had remained very similar and so they were attracted to the same kind of parties and events.

"I've noticed you listened to this song quite a lot lately", his sister chirped. "I swear I wasn't stalking you, but I added you to my friends and you forgot to label your ' _guilty pleasures_ ' playlist as _private_ ".

"Don't worry, Hermione. I know how social networks are supposed to work", he said. "And I didn't forget to hide my _showering_ playlist, I simply thought that since you're the only person I know who can access that app…", he trailed off, his attention grabbed from the men who had just entered the room.

Four young wizards Theodore had never seen before had just entered.

Two of them were holding two big shopping bags in their hands, one was carrying a muggle projector, which was later pointed at the wall that hosted the fireplace.

The fourth guy was wearing a black suite and visibly occupied a higher position in MagiTech's ranks, nonchalantly strolling in front of the guests.

"What's happening?", he asked.

"A little surprise for my guests", said Hermione before turning once again to the crowd, which was now composed by less numerous but more welcome guests.

"When I was little my _mother_ used to tell that if you throw a party you don't only need to make sure people enjoy it but also remember it. Today, I have a gift for you that will change the way you communicate".

The witch grabbed her wand and pointed it at the projector.

In the middle of the room, in the space arranged for the dancing, was standing a three-dimensional hologram of the Mirror 2, MagiTech's latest mobile telephone.

"For those of you who are still not familiar with a muggle phone, we can describe it as an instant owl. Let's say I need to meet with a friend. With the Mirror 2 there are three ways I can do that", she said as she marched to the hologram.

"The first: I _call_ my friend. Which means that we can have a conversation even if he's at work and I'm on vacation, he's in London and I'm in Sydney. The second: I _text_ him. Which means that I write a message of any length I desire to him, and he'll answer as soon as he can, or want. The third: I _mirror_ him".

The witch indicated one icon in the virtual display.  
It was a white square with a black 'M' right in the centre, surrounded by small, black polka dots. Underneath that was the name of the app.

" _Mirror_ is the first wizarding social network ever created. It launched last year when _MagiTech_ has expanded to the United States and the results have been outstanding. _Mirror 1.0_ , on the Australian and American circuits, has now more than 5 million members. Today you have been chosen to test its successor.  
Think of a social network as a notice-board where you can pin your thoughts, pictures, favourite music and artworks, literature, hobbies and share them with everyone who belongs to the list of your friends, which is completely _customizable_ ".

She pressed the icon, virtually launching the application.

There were two fields to complete to log-in, or the option to register, and Hermione clicked on the second one.

"Last year, we built a social network that would fit nicely into our phones. Today, I present you a phone that has been designed to support the new features of Mirror 2.0, which you'll all get the opportunity to try three months before the official launch date".

Hermione smiled warmly at her audience.

Most people were not new to muggle technology and were clapping their hands with a passion, but there were others who hadn't understood much of her speech. Luckily, she'd prepared for that inconvenience.

"Now let me introduce you to Dr. Carrington, the scientist behind Mirror 2.0".

She quickly left the spotlight to the man with the black suite, who had personally designed to software to be simple and intuitive, yet modern.

He started by talking about the most basic features, like setting up the phone-book and the calendar, then passed on to phone-calls and text-messages, ending with a very detailed lecture on any section of _Mirror_ : state updates, short sentences inspired by the muggle Twitter that were meant to share your thoughts and opinion on trivial or personal matters; pictures, because the Mirror 2 allowed its owner to become an aspiring photographer, mounting on the back of the display the best camera available in the muggle market; music, as the app was connected to the one dedicated to music, which featured both muggle and wizarding artists, making it the biggest library in the world; finally, the properly _social_ part consisted in comments and likes, and chats between two or more people.

" _Faster_ , _better_ , _deeper_ communication is in your reach, now. In the bags behind my back those phones are only waiting for you to take them. Now, before those of you who wish to do so can receive their gift, I need a volunteer to show you how to create your profile".

Parvati Patil, who was a Half-blood, therefore already skilled at muggle technology, and also a worldwide known wizarding model, meaning she always appreciated the attention, took a step forward.

Mr. Carrington asked her to fill the name, surname, age and sex fields, which were mandatory to register, after giving her a brand new, rose-gold device.

Next came a few questions, such as 'where are you from?', 'where have you studied?' and 'what is your job?', then a writing on the display asked her to upload a profile picture.

She didn't need explanations to quickly find the camera app and take a nice selfie. It was an activity she had quite mastered.

"Congratulations, Ms. Patil! You have just joined Mirror 2".

Parvati beamed at the crowd, clapping hands were like music to her ears.

"Before I let you all take your gift and return to the party, let me quickly show you how to make sure your telephone recognizes you and doesn't let other people see your private pictures and conversations".

This part had been included because of the many sexting-related scandals that had occurred in the muggle side of MagiTech's leadership, which had caused losses not only in terms of money, but also of valuable collaborators.

"To make it real easy, I've connected the identity of the phone to the Mirror profile that is logged into it, so that you can use someone else's phone, but nobody can use yours. What I mean is, the telephone holds your personal data as long as you're using it. Once you register and upload your pictures, this key will appear on the screen", the man explained as he pointed at it.

"If you click on it, you'll be asked to touch the display. The sophisticated technology inside the Mirror 2 will get a virtual picture of your magical chore, which is what you'll need to use as a password after your first access".

He logged out of Parvati's brand-new profile, then closed the app only to open it again a moment later. The log-in screen popped up and he put Parvati's name under the ID's section, then tapped once in the password section.

Mirror denied him access, proving his point to the audience.

He invited the former Gryffindor witch to try, and her profile appeared.  
There were only her name, the information she'd written and the selfie, but sections for pictures, posts, videos and music could be seen.

Theodore hadn't understood the potential of the small device in the pocket of his suit until just then.

He threw a mesmerized look at Hermione. "You planned all of this in less than a week?"

"Not really. What I'm really planning is Mirror 3, that we'll lunch in October. It will be like the one we just showed you, but it will be a worldwide version because it will merge back with the American and Australian networks. Right now, Mirror 2 has been configured to allow only people that has gone to Hogwarts to find each other. I must set up a new profile, it would be weird to use my pseudonym to chat with Harry".

"I still don't understand why you'd make such a generous gift to people you haven't seen in five years", he pointed out.

"I'm at the point where I can't count how much money I have, Theo. This party, telephones included, touches my finances just as much as having a cup of coffee. Besides, these gifts are going to help me perfect Mirror 3 before we release, but also keep track of what people know about me, at least before the main project I'm working on has become reality".

"Do you think you could tell me what that is?"

"You can be so _naïve_ sometimes. I _must_ tell you. You're one of my shareholders, now", his sister beamed at him, then sweetly patted him on the shoulder.

"It's kind of hard to believe that I own thirty percent of one of the biggest companies in the world and did nothing to earn it".

"Give yourself some credit, Theodore", she joked. "You're my twin. You have to be awesome".

"You're such a _kiss-ass_ ", he scoffed, but surrounded her waist with his arm and pulled her closer anyway. "But I'm so glad I found you".

"It's in my _blood_ , apparently", she darkly murmured.

As people started to rush to the two MagiTech's employees with the bags full of telephones, Hermione played with the touchscreen of her watch once again.

"Since we've lost twenty-three years of birthdays and parties…", she trailed off, her index and middle finger slowly walking on his arm. "What do you say if tonight we go crazy celebrating and tomorrow we talk about the serious stuff?"

The song she'd been forced to stop for the presentation started again.

 _'Hey, kids. Do you like violence?'_

* * *

Violence it was.

Hermione danced with her brother, drunk an impossible amount of alcohol, both muggle and wizarding, and was unexpectedly having fun like she hadn't in a long time.

She was used to the drunkenness, to the music and the dancing, but it was usually just Pansy and her going to fancy clubs, and it quickly ended with either a meaningless shag or a touchy suitor dragged away by bodyguards.

At the surprisingly young age of twenty-three, Hermione could say she'd lived a little: she'd started facing the forces of evil at age eleven, fought in a war at the age of seventeen; she'd sent her parents away, erasing their memories of her only to discover her whole life had been a lie; she'd been tortured, suffering from the aftermath of Bellatrix Lestrange's Crucio curse for years, and she still had nightmares about it.

In addition, she'd also lived her life as Victoria Sallow, which had been rather eventful.

Raising to the very top so fast had been rather hard to cope with, and she'd done many things she shouldn't have.

She'd been lucky to have Pansy next to her.

The former Slytherin witch hadn't been particularly sober, or quiet; on the contrary, Pansy Parkinson was a force to be reckoned with, and when it came to partying no one was better than her.

The two just happened to balance each other, often preventing one another from doing things they would have certainly ended up regretting.

It wasn't a coincidence Hermione had married Lex not long after Pansy had returned to England, and the brunette was still pissed off with her psychologist for describing her actions as an unconscious call for help.

Her marriage was to blame on the alcohol, that was it. _Right?_

"Merlin, I love this song!" She felt Astoria's sweaty hand grabbing her arm. "Let's go dance!"

Over the past two hours Hermione had discovered to have a lot of things in common with her cousin, who was very different from the person she'd imagined her to be: Astoria Greengrass was one strong, sassy witch who'd fought teeth and nails to avoid the arranged marriage her father had imposed on her.

"You said that for the past three songs, Tori", Daphne chirped in.

Now that she wasn't disgusted by her ( _fake_ ) relationship and the blonde was visibly more relaxed, far away from the family Manor where her father was plotting her demise, Hermione was getting along with her other cousin, too.

It was too soon to say if they were going to become the best of friends yet, but the brunette witch felt like now she could at least tolerate Slytherin gatherings, and since they seemed to mean so much to Theo she was actually looking forward for the next one.

Especially now that the tension between her and Malfoy had been cleared.

Hermione had always wondered what a real conversation with Draco Malfoy was like, during her years at Hogwarts.

He had very good grades, an aristocratic background and excellent manners, at least when he was speaking with someone he deemed worth of respect.

Moreover, he'd showed enough charisma to literally have the entire Slytherin House kissing the ground he walked over before turning thirteen.

She'd always been fascinated by the idea of talking to him, at least on a hypothetical level.

That was generally the point where Malfoy noticed she was looking at him and sneered, reminding her why a conversation between the two of them was impossible.

Hermione wondered how much of the man she'd spoken with that afternoon had always been hidden in the boy she'd gone to school with.

"May I borrow you for a second?"

Malfoy decided that moment to join their small group, placing himself behind her. He gently touched her on one side of her neck, the rough skin of the palm of his hand burning her collarbone as his fingers rapidly ended on top of one of her shoulders.

"Tell me all about it, _stud_ ", she scoffed.

Hermione turned on her heels, facing the man, then locked her eyes on his and placed her own hand on the one that was still touching her shoulder.

With a long, calculated gesture she grabbed it, let it slide along her collarbone once more before pulling it away from her body.

"Really, Granger? _Grease_? Should I go grab my leather jacket, then?"

"You definitely had a lot of gel in your hair when we were at school", she retorted.

"C'mon, I stopped in the middle of second year. Why does everybody always remember my one bad hairstyle and not the good ones? Besides, I was smashing even with gel in my hair".

"I'm sure that's not what you wanted to talk me about".

Draco didn't answer, fixing his glaze in the glass in his hand.

Hermione was sure some drops of his cocktail must had dropped and wet his fingers when she'd touched him not long before, because she was certain she'd felt him shiver.

For a moment, she allowed her mind to virtually suck that finger, taste his cocktail (and Draco Malfoy) and be done with it.

With little amusement, she wondered what her psychologist would think of having sexual fantasies about her childhood bully.

It didn't matter she could see big, toned muscles peeking through the fabric of his shirt, or the fact she was on her eight month of self-imposed abstinence from sex.

Her experience with Lex had scarred her more than she liked to admit.

She shook her head, scolding herself for doing fuck-eyes to her old nemesis.

It wasn't neither the time, nor the place, much less the right universe.

"I'm sorry I've been so hard on you", he blurted out, his lips curled down in a pout.

His cheeks were red and his odd eyes shiny; if Hermione was drunk, Draco was way worst.

"I haven't been easy on you, either", she conceded with a smile. "Have you been enjoying your night of no responsibilities so far?"

Draco opened his mouth to answer, then closed it.

The expression on his face was hilarious, and the witch erupted in laughter.

"I know I sound like a dick by saying it, but I'm happy that I got a night out without feeling guilty because my daughter could be having nightmares in her bed at home. The problem is that I feel guilty because… well, I feel kind of _free_?", he shrugged. "I love Adhara, but sometimes I feel like there are things I'm completely missing".

"You're a father and you're twenty-three, drunk beyond the possibility of return. If you didn't say something like this I would question your _humanity_ , Malfoy".

"Wait a second. Are we back to Malfoy?"

"You never progressed to Hermione", she arched one of her brows.

"Touché. Would you like a refill?", Draco asked, raising his glass in her direction.

"Yeah, my energies are running kind of low. Either I keep drinking or I won't be able to drag myself around the dance-floor much longer".

"Never pictured you like the dancing kind", he mused.

"I don't think anybody else did, for that matter. Everybody always seems to assume the wrong thing about me. I always wondered if it was lack of intelligence, superficiality or absence of interest".

"Sounds too judgemental for a Gryffindor".

"If there's one thing that's sure about Gryffindors, is that we are, indeed, quite the judgemental type. Some more than others. I'm personally for the 'live and let live' philosophy, though I do have my _boundaries_ to it".

Draco nodded, then looked again at his glass.

"Would you like a refill?", he repeated.

Hermione chuckled, then urged him to the bar.

She ordered simple muggle vodka for herself and a glass of water for the blond wizard, who seemed to be struggling just performing the simple action of standing on his own feet.

It had been probably been a long enough since he'd let himself go that much.

"What the fuck is this?", he spat as soon as he took a sip. "This is not FireWhisky!", he pouted.

"I think you've had enough of that for now", she chastised. "Besides, you need to stay hydrated. When you finish your water, I'll let you have another drink".

"Ok, _mommy_ ", he said trough gritted teeth. "As you wish".

He quickly emptied his glass, then impatiently stared at her.

"My drink?"

"Fine. Go for it", she conceded while rolling her eyes. "You earned it, _cowboy_ ".

"A shot of _absinthe_ ", he grinned at the bartender.

Hermione was about to leave him alone and go look for one of his friends to take care of him, but then she noticed the way his eyes shined under the lights, and how his smile pulled out a small dimple in his right cheek, and something inside her convinced her to stay.

"Give me one, too".

Hermione played along when he required they toasted to new beginnings, or at least that was what she'd understood; Draco was so drunk he couldn't stop laughing, so she wasn't sure what words had precisely come out of his mouth.

After the absinthe the wizard was definitely K.O.

The brunette escorted him to her beloved black leather sofa, helping him support his weight by passing his arm around her neck and surrounding his waist with hers.

"Have I ever told how beautiful you are?", he whispered in her ear.

Then Draco did something she wasn't expecting: first he gave her the hottest fuck-me eyes she'd ever been given, then he fell asleep on her shoulder with a loud snort.

And that was it.

* * *

For reasons she didn't know, she'd adjusted her head so that his could slip in the crook of her neck and then she'd fallen asleep, too.

Luckily, most of the guest were too drunk themselves to notice and left before they could see the unlikely pair cuddled up on the couch.

She'd woken up at 4 a.m., panicked for losing her control and then rushed to her room, returning five minutes later with a blanket she placed on top of Malfoy's sleeping figure.

The morning after, Hermione raised from her bed at 9 a.m., when her doorbell rang.

She grabbed her telephone from the nightstand next to the side of bed she usually slept in, on the right, before quickly walking downstairs.

When she passed by the living room, her sofa was empty.

"Good morning", chirped Theodore's voice when she opened the door. "I brought breakfast".

"I know I said we'd talk about the serious stuff today, but I didn't mean this early in the morning. Tell me you brought some hangover-potion", she pleaded, one hand covering her forehead as her migraine started to kick in.

"Who do you think I am?", Theo scoffed, then physically moved her so that he could enter the house.

"Of course I brought you hangover-potion!".

They ate their breakfast at the large island of her kitchen.

"So, you and Draco…", he teased.

Hermione didn't bother replying, simply arching one of her brows.

"You were so cute sleeping together", he added. "I need to ask Pansy to send me the picture she's taken".

"P-picture?", she stuttered.

" _So cute_ ", he repeated.

Hermione scowled. "Let's talk about _anything_ else, shall we? Malfoy was drunk and fell asleep all over me, end of the story"

"Fine", he conceded, still smirking. "I need your help to finish setting up my profile for Mirror. I have most things done I believe, but I want your opinion".

"Sure, let me grab a new telephone, so I can create my new profile, too".

Hermione left the kitchen and walked her way to the cupboard, returning a couple of minutes later with a small, squared box in her hands.

When her brand-new Mirror 2 was turned on, she quickly proceeded to register herself into the social network, but the app gave her an error screen and crashed every single time she tried to save her magical ID for future access.

On her fifth attempt, a pop-up clarified the problem.  
To protect users from frauds, identity theft and preserve their privacy, MagiTech had implemented a new spell on the Mirror 2.0, one that prevented anyone from registering with a fake name.

The spell was actually one of her latest creations, and suddenly a doubt found space in her mind.

"Theodore…", she called.

"Mh?"

" _What is my name?_ "

Theodore was taken aback by her request; he'd been dreading to call her with her proper name, or at least having her acknowledging its existence, but he hadn't brought up the subject once.

She hadn't seem very keen on embracing her birth family, and though he knew nothing about her adoptive parents, whom he only knew were still living in Australia, he suspected she'd have wanted to keep the name Hermione Granger for the rest of her life.

But now she'd fallen in her own trap, and Theo couldn't help but smirk.

"Eloise, your name is Eloise. _Eloise Quinn Nott_ ", he said, proudly.

"Well, that's pretentious. Cute, but _so_ pretentious".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Surprise! Seventh chapter's up. :))  
I was feeling very guilty for having you wait  
so long for last update, so I decided I would  
post this chapter a little sooner.  
Plus, it's very closely connected to the previous  
one, so I thought it best to let you read it before  
you completely forget what's happened before.  
We have finally reach the end of the party, and  
though there will be quite a lot of those in this  
story, for now I want to tone it down a little and  
focus more on the private lives of this characters.  
There are 4 chapters left 'till the end of part one,  
I'm currently writing chapter 11 and well, since  
I'm personally not opposed to spoilers, I would  
really love to hear your theories about what is  
coming next (either here or on tumblr, where you  
can find me under godisawitchfic or slytherinvenenum).  
I also want to thank the amazing people who have  
reviewed or added this story to followed&favorites,  
you have no idea how much it means to me.  
Have a nice weekend! :))

p.s. on the dedicated blog you can find a playlist with  
the titles and artists of the songs who have inspired  
the chapter's names & more generally the music I  
listen to when I work on this ff (99% is rap, lol).  
I accept suggestions, by the way.


	8. LEVEL UP

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **8.**

 **LEVEL UP**

.

" _I turned nothing to something my comeback on one hundred,  
less talking, more action (…) see me, I see greater  
nothing I'm afraid of, and I can have it all_"

* * *

 ** _Blaise's Loft, July 14_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

For the past year and half, the group of friends had gathered at Blaise's every Thursday night.

Reserved to _inner circle_ only, their nights usually comprehended huge amounts of Elf-wine, which was Draco's task to provide, cheeky board games, Zabini's specialty, exotic food, Theodore's field, and gossip, Pansy's _piece de resistance_.

The fourteenth of July 2003 made no exception.

Dinner had been over for a while, and the four of them were sitting at the table, sharing their first impressions after two full days of using _Mirror_.

"I could never go back", Blaise sighed, theatrically. "This little thing has changed my life".

"I know, I know", Pansy chuckled. "It's been the same for me, too".

"I still can't believe you've seen MagiTech's foundation", the dark-skinned wizard said, throwing an understanding glance at both Theodore and Draco.

They'd spent the entire afternoon in a group chat on their phones, discussing their evil plan to get Pansy drunk and raid her with questions.

The dark-haired witch wasn't the best at keeping secrets, especially when she was drinking; she had been very cooperative thus far. "And yet I did, my dear friend. I was there since day one", she laughed. "Hermione was about to cut the ribbon when half the scissors they gave her broke apart and fell to the ground. You should've seen her face, standing there with half a pair of giant scissors in her hands and the cheeks all flushed-".

"If she spoke to them the way she did with Rita", Theodore trailed off, not sure of what to say but determined to keep Pansy talking.

"She was so pretty, though", the brunette said. "She is _so_ pretty".

Nothing to be worried about. Under the effluvia of alcohol the witch always tended to compliment her friends, and on her last birthday's party they'd managed to record a muggle tape where she listed her favourite things for each of them.

"Potter won't get jealous if you drool over his best friend?", Blaise asked.

"She's my best friend, too", she retorted. "I have every right to say she's pretty".

"That she is", he conceded. "Tell me again _how_ she's _your_ best friend?"

Pansy emptied the glass of wine in her hands, then threw a judgemental look to her friends. " _Guys, guys, guys_ ".

"Yes, _dear_ Pansy?"

The witch sighed. "Why don't you just ask me what you so obviously want to know about Hermione and we can be done with it?"

" _Eloise_. Her name is Eloise", Theo said.

"Yeah, she told me about that", she cut him off. "Don't take it personally if she goes by Hermione for a little longer, that witch has been through a lot and doesn't adjust well to changes".

"I would never pressure her to change her name. But it's nice to say that Eloise is alive, you know?"

"Yeah, Theo, I get that. I don't think she has mentioned it, but she was happy to discover what her given name is. She isn't in the best place with her muggle parents right now, and with that I already told you too much. She'd kill me if she knew I'm sharing with you some of her secrets".

"She turned out to be Victoria Sallow, founder and C.E.O of _MagiTech_. What else could be there?"

"If you only knew, Blaise. If you only knew".

"Have they treated her badly?", Theodore inquired.

"Not physically, if that's what you're asking, but before she set out on looking for the Horcruxes with Harry and Ron she did a _Memory Charm_ on them, erasing every moment they ever shared, and sent them off to Australia. The only thing I'm sure of is that she believes they _hate_ her with a passion".

"Well, I was talking with her… _just now_ ", Draco said, "What if we invite her over and we turn Pansy's interrogation into hers? We would have her best friend on our side, after all".

Three questioning looked burned the crown of his head, so he raised his glance from his chat with the former Gryffindor witch once again.

"Why were you _texting_ my sister?"

"Why were you _texting_ Hermione?"

Draco ignored the question both times but resigned when he looked for help in Blaise only to see him smirking at him.

"I thanked her for not letting me freeze my ass after I fell asleep like an idiot on her couch, I asked her about the name and that was it. Now I was talking to her just because I sent her a picture when you poured the wine on your shirt", he shrugged. "If you don't want me to talk to your sister you just need to say it, mate. I can promise you, I haven't been unpleasant".

"That's not what I'm worried about, Drake", Theo mused, then relaxed his shoulders and acted as nothing had happened. "Go ahead, see if she wants to join us".

Draco sent a questioning look at his best friend, then proceeded to reply to the witch's last message.

Hermione had just replied to Theo's embarrassing photo with a laugh in caps-lock and some emojis he didn't know the meaning of.

"She said she'll be here _asap_ ", he announced a couple minutes later.

"That's not very likely", Pansy scoffed. "If she was using her phone then she's probably already in her bed. I wonder what she needs to talk to you about from her bed of all places", she teased.

Draco was about to retort and insult her relationship with Potter, just for good measure, but two things simultaneously happened: the doorbell rang, freezing the conversation, and the wizard got caught in the dark-haired witch's trap.

His thoughts were dangerously lingering on imagining Hermione Granger in her bed, though the things he was picturing in his mind probably didn't match the reality.

" _Oh, for the love of Godric_ , where are you, Theo? Are you fine? What the fuck was Malfoy talking ab-", a worried voice filled the room as soon as Blaise opened the main door of his loft.

The witch rushed to the living-room area, her eyes rapidly scanning the room looking for her brother.

"What the fuck have you said to her exactly?", asked Pansy. "She's come here in her pyjamas".

Draco smirked. He hadn't notice that the witch's dress was in reality a nightgown, though a very fancy one. The fabric had a floral fantasy in blue tones, but instead of a skirt it ended with a pair of shorts. It also explained why she'd put a white, long-sleeve cardigan over it, considering they were in the middle of July and weather was pretty awesome in England that summer, or at least when you compared it to the usual standards.

"Something about Theo being in terrible danger", the brunette replied to Pansy's request, sending daggers at him with her eyes.

Once her glance spotted her brother's _unharmed_ figure, though, she let out a sigh and her posture visibly relaxed.

"I'm all good", chirped Theodore from his seat on the sofa.

He greeted his sister with a warm smile, but apparently it wasn't enough for her. She stormed to the sofa and hugged him tightly.

"I was worried about you", she admitted with shaky breath.

Now Hermione was still, and everyone could notice how flushed her skin was, how messy her ponytail, how odd the sneakers on her shoes paired with a nightgown.

"Have you come here running, Hermione?", was Pansy's baffled question.

"How did you know where I live?", wondered Blaise.

"Well, my apartment is a couple on streets further on the west, it was the fastest way without magic, and since we are in a muggle neighbourhood that felt more appropriate", she explained. "As for your question, Blaise, I asked Malfoy for your address".

"Yeah, but I hadn't sent it yet", chimed Draco in, raising his telephone so that anyone could see it.

Hermione smirked. "Maybe you shouldn't leave the geo-localization on when you post pictures on Mirror, though the pasta you were eating looked positively awesome. Do I really need to remind you that I fought a war? Of course I'll rush in here if you tell me my brother has been hurt", she spat.

"Which luckily isn't the case", she added, releasing Theo from her grip and gracefully taking a seat next to him. "So, why am I here?"

"Relax, _sweetheart_ ", Pansy chirped. "The boys have been very chivalrous inviting you here. It's our special night of the week, very _exclusive_ ".

"As you well know, _darling_ , Thursday is my special night of the week, too", the other cut her off. "Though I'm sure you mentioned that before you decided to pull off your little trick-".

"I think she was about to", Draco interrupted her, surprising his friends with the mature choice of assuming all responsibility and blame. "But I didn't let her and wrote before she could advise me otherwise. I'm sorry, it wasn't a funny joke".

Hermione accepted his apology with a curt nod of her head.

"So, what did you guys needed me for?", she asked to no one in particular.

"There isn't a specific reason, we just thought it would be nice for you to join us", Pansy smoothly said, though she knew that no matter how good she covered for her friends, the brunette would have figured their intentions sooner rather than later if they weren't careful with the questions they asked.

"Next time you should tell me before dinner, I went to _McDonald's_ ", she frowned.

"I'm so going to tell Terrence about this", the other retorted.

"Forget about Terrence. I fired him".

Terrence had been personally chosen by Pansy to be Hermione's personal trainer for as long as she stood in England.

He was a handsome guy, around thirty years of age; though very skilled at his job, he'd been pushing her too hard in the short period of time they'd worked side by side and the witch had promptly dismissed him from duty.

Pansy had always been downright obsessive with her image in the four years she'd been her PR and Hermione generally let her friend have her way, as her methods were just as effective as they were eccentric.

Now that she was back home, however, she wanted to take things a little slower. She had decided to look for a gym on her own and go there to entertain herself, and now she was informing Pansy about it.

"But, but, but!", was Pansy's outraged squeak. "He was perfect!"

"Yeah, maybe a little too much. He was pushing me too hard and right now I want to sit back and relax a little", she tried to let her see some reason, but was abruptly interrupted.

"I mean, I hired him _because_ he was a tough one, but I'm sure that if you had just talked to him instead of firing him, things would have worked out just great".

"Too late for that", Hermione darkly replied.

"Besides, it's not like you to send someone home just because you don't like them. You're always very fair when it comes to taking someone's income from them", the former Slytherin insisted, her eyebrows furrowed in a thoughtful expression.

"Fine", she spat, shifting uncomfortable on her seat. "I may also have _unintentionally_ slept with him".

The flush in her cheeks grew deeper as everyone in the room stared at her.

"What?", she arched one of her brow. "Never had a one-off?"

"Personally I don't understand why you fired him", Theodore said, eager to prove he was just as modern as a muggle his age, thank you very much. "Did you tell it wasn't going to happen again and he insisted or something like that?"

Hermione managed to get enough control of herself to let out a small chuckle. "Oh, no. I can assure it's nothing like that. I just don't sleep with the people I work with, it's one of my rules".

"You have a reputation for _breaking_ rules. Sneaking outside of the Gryffindor dormitories, one time getting petrified by a basilisk while doing so, creating your personal fight club in fifth year… Yes, Granger, pretty much everyone was at the Tree Broomsticks the day you founded your little army. Where was I? Right, you deceived one of your teachers and she was attacked by centaurs, not that someone blames you for it. Oh, and you broke into Gringott and flew away on a fucking dragon…", Draco trailed off. "Did I miss something?"

" _Dumb_ -ridge totally had it coming", she muttered. "Besides, I break rules other people impose on me, and only when I find them unfair or it is _really_ necessary. I don't usually break the rules I give myself, as they are not many".

"Don't sleep with your co-workers makes a lot of sense in Hermione's position", Pansy chimed in, then filled a glass of wine for her friend. "She's _Queen Elizabeth_ in a men's world. At the beginning of her career many have tried to use her sexuality against her. Which is why I wish you would have listened to me when I told you to stay away from Lex Martin".

"When you _texted me_ to stay away from Lex Martin", Hermione retorted.

"It was an _audio message_ , if we want to be precise", the other shrugged.

" _Whatever_ ", she rolled her eyes, finally taking the glass the dark-haired witch had been handing to her. "That's in the past. What did I miss, besides the Italian food?"

"We were talking about your party on Tuesday. It turns out I was right, Anthony and Parvati's relationship has the shape of a triangle".

"You mean Anthony and Padma's", she corrected. "We were study-buddies in Hogwarts and that's where it started".

"Anthony Goldstein and Padma Patil were together in Hogwarts? Wasn't he dating that Hufflepuff girl with the killer ass?", Blaise asked.

"I wouldn't say they were together", Hermione shook her head. "But they fell in love with each other. She's never been the type of girl who opens her heart and shares her secrets with you, so that's really all I know. I always wondered what was preventing them from just jump at each other and make peace with themselves".

"And now he is dating Parvati", Theodore pointed out.

She frowned. "I wasn't expecting that part".

"She's super hot, though", admitted Pansy with a shrug. "And she's a model. What man doesn't get hard for that?"

"I'm pretty sure there are some with complete different taste, or an unconscious despise for the job, and there are gay men, too…", she trailed off, biting her lower lip as she focused on her mental calculations. "You do have a point", she eventually surrendered. "I think it's pretty trivial that I always preferred Padma out of the two, even though I shared a room with Parvati for six years. Padma doesn't only have the best personality, in my opinion, but also the best looks".

"They're quite identical to me", Theo shrugged.

Gossip wasn't really his cup of tea, and he'd already heard about the news during dinner.

"Anyway", Pansy chirped, trying to bring the group's attention on the mission in act. They hadn't being able to trick her, who actually trusted them with her life, how exactly did they think they could deceive Hermione Granger if that was their attention for details? "Now it's been two days. How are English wizards and witches responding to Mirror?"

"Surprisingly good. I had a very detailed and easy to understand manual given with each device, but even with that… The results have been incredible. Everybody has managed to register in acceptable times and the users seem very enthusiast about the product. I think it's going to be a win", she grinned.

Mirror 2.0 had been a hazard, a jump into the darkness and the unknown, but just like its predecessor it was proving to be just the right direction to take.

She had noticed how dry was _communication_ between wizards and witches, she remembered how uptight most of the students had been in Hogwarts, how most of the people had had morals she deemed as ancient and barbaric.

Things had slowly start changing, but higher forces were trying to stop progress and a reverse in tendency was  
possible.

Now that she had returned she knew she could never go back in Australia and stay there for five more years.

She was planting seeds here, and she was trying to recover the relationships she'd neglected. As much as her friends genuinely loved her, she knew that neither Harry nor Ginny would forgive her if she disappeared again.

It was fine for them to thinking her out in the world, on her journey to discover herself, but now permanently returning to Australia would have been perceived by her friends like a statement: _my life doesn't involve you_.

"Of course, it'll be a win", Pansy scoffed. "Every fucking thing you touch turns into gold".

"You included", Hermione chuckled.

Her laughter only grew deeper when Pansy punched her upper arm.

"How do you think we've been doing?", Blaise inquired. "If you happened to stumble in our profiles, that's it".

"I actually have a question about your profile specifically, if you don't mind. I know this is none of my business and it's ok if you don't want to answer", she said.

"Let's see".

"You have uploaded quite a large number of pictures, but I noticed that _Ginny_ is in none of them. Besides, you didn't come to my party together and you didn't even know about it the first time I mentioned it. I'm sure it's not because you're trying to hide your relationship, because she already knows your sister, a _lovely girl_ , by the way, and you went together to the reunion at Hogwarts. So… _is everything ok?_ Did you two broke things off?"

Blaise gave her a baffled look, then tried to assemble a reply as soon as he processed everything she'd just said.

"And you have supposedly figured all that out just by the fact I didn't post a picture of me and Ginny?", he asked. "I've had the telephone only for two days, and we've both been rather busy lately".

"Social networks have the peculiar ability of hiding in plain sight a lot about someone's personal life. It's all there, in what you post, and most of all in what you _don't_ post. Moreover, you had _this_ telephone for only two days and I'm sure you're clever enough to have copied all the important things in your old muggle phone inside of your new one", she retorted. "And I believe I heard saying you've been dating for something like six to eight months during dinner at Pansy's".

"Six months and a half", Blaise clarified. "To answer your first question, no, we didn't break things off. I had planned to never tell you this, but since you asked… She asked me to give her some space after dinner at Pansy's, she's reconsidering our relationship upon the fact she thinks you don't approve of it".

Hermione covered her mouth with the hand who wasn't holding a glass, in complete shock. "Why the hell Ginny thinks I don't approve of your relationship? And _what_ is there to disapprove of, by the way? It's not like I'm her mother or-", she trailed off. " _Oh_. I see. I'll speak my mind to her about your relationship as soon as possible, then".

"What will you say, exactly?", muttered Blaise. "At first, I didn't believe she was serious, but then she went completely crazy on me".

"You should get used to that, Ginny is known for the ability to throw a fit. And her _Bat Boogie_ hex, too", she mused. "I'll tell her that you make quite an amazing pair, Blaise. If Ginny is worried about my approval, though I don't think she should ask for it, either to me or to anybody else, then my approval she'll get".

"I'm not sure why she needs that, either".

"Because she comes from a big family. She's a very independent girl, but it's hard to keep your head high when a lot of people are trying to drag you down. It's like when she wanted to audition for the Quidditch team".

"She's _bloody brilliant_ on the Quidditch pitch. Why would someone try to take that away from her?"

"Everyone recognizes she's brilliant now", she retorted. "Back in the day Fred, George and myself were the only ones who encouraged her. I guess she feels like it's happening again, only she convinced herself that I'm not on her side this time".

With that, Hermione raised her glass in his direction and emptied it in one, swift sip. She gestured Pansy for a refill.

"Your profile on Mirror is interesting, too", quietly said Theodore after a while.

He'd turned his head in his sister's direction, half hiding a smile behind the FireWhisky in his hand.

"Very full, I shall say", he nodded with conviction.

Theo had gone behind the point where he was the one controlling the alcohol and not the other way around.

"There are like what, five hundred pictures?", he asked.

"Well, approximately, yes. I synchronized the photos I have on my Australian and American account. And my muggle profiles, too", she shrugged.

"A lot of people in those pictures, too", he added.

Pansy was looking at him with wide eyes, shaking a hand in front of her neck as she desperately tried to stop him.

Draco had a stiff posture as he was looking at him, too, while Blaise was more interested in the telephone in his hand than the conversation going on around him. He'd just wrote Ginny that he missed her.

"Yet none of them with your muggle parents. _Why?_ "

The polite, well-mannered, quite reserved Theodore Nott could turn into someone completely different when he was drunk.

Normally, he wouldn't have been so blunt, circling around the question until the person he was talking to would spontaneously bring up the subject he wanted to speak about.

Hermione's senses went instantly on alarm. She could hear the blood pounding in her chest, she could see the sheer curiosity in everybody's faces and if she tried hard enough she could smell her own fear.

She was having such a nice evening, despite the tumult following her arrival, and now her fun was ruined.

"That's an odd question, Theodore", she curtly said.

"You haven't mentioned them once since we first spoke at the reunion, yet you went to Australia for them in the first place. You have pictures with fucking anyone on there, but they are nowhere. I'm sure that if I was the man who raised you, I would proudly stand next to you, considering all your achievements in both worlds".

"That's the point", she scoffed. "He's not my father. Not anymore. Hasn't been in five years".

Silence fell on the room.

Hermione sat straight, feeling her eyes tingling and hoping she could hold back the tears. Everyone avoided looking at her.

"I'm so sorry", Theo muffled.

Hermione threw him a stern look, then slowly turned her head to Pansy. "It's funny. I never mentioned to Theodore the reason I moved to Australia".

"Hermione, I can explain", the dark-haired witch pleaded.

"I pushed her", he admitted.

"I couldn't say much, though, could I?", Pansy bitterly added. "I'm your _best friend_ and I don't know the fucking reason you don't talk to your parents. You of all people should know that I can understand how you feel, whatever the reason is".

"That's enough", Hermione said, coldly. "You promised not to interfere with what I share of my life, but clearly your word cannot be trusted. Do you want to know why I don't speak to _or_ about my muggle parents? It's because it makes me sick to my stomach. It makes me want to scream and cry and break something. Everyone in our world by now knows that I charmed my parents' memories before the war. Harry included the detail in his autobiography. Twenty-five days after the last battle I was on a flight to Sydney. The idea was to restore their memories, go through the obvious questioning and apologizing and return to the house where I grew up, in London".

"What happened?", asked Draco, shifting in his position so that he could bring his chest nearer to the general area where she was. "You didn't succeed?"

"I did succeed. They got their memories of me back".

"I'm sure they were pissed off about it, but happy to see you nonetheless. My father has never been one for public displays of affection, yet he couldn't take his arms off my neck before the Aurors dragged him away".

"Your father _loves_ you, Malfoy. My parents didn't only retrieve their memories of me, they also retrieved their memories of the daughter they had lost, mourned and forgot about thanks to my biological father's wand. My mother… Jane's reaction has been the worst. She just looked at me like she had never seen me before, then she accused me of _stealing_ her daughter's life and threatened to basically break the Statute of Secrecy by telling I'm a witch. I didn't know what to do with the things they said to me, I thought I had permanently damaged their brains. My father was calmer than Jane, but eventually he didn't stand up for me when it mattered the most. I haven't heard from my mother since the day I gave her the memories back and accidentally broke the other spell she was under. Last time I talked to my father it was on my birthday, two years ago. Though I presume that's not really my birthday, is it?"

"We were born on January 11th, 1980, in Nott Manor".

"Anyway, you didn't know about them because before Theodore found me and gave me an explanation, I had no idea how or why someone had casted a spell on muggles to force them to take me in. I know I can be very reserved, but if there's one person who's fucking taken a peek at me that's you, Pansy. I thought you were better than this".

Hermione abruptly stood from her seat, crossed her arms in front of her chest and moved towards the door.

"I would go home now, if you would all excuse me. I'm very tired and no longer in the mood for socialization".

The witch threw a last glance to the group, scowling.

She noticed how Theodore was about to raise from his seat as well and offer himself to escort her, but she stopped him with a dry gesture of her hand.

"Enjoy yourself", she murmured without much conviction before leaving.

* * *

Draco had reassured Theodore he would have handled this, greeted Pansy and Blaise and stepped outside of Blaise's loft without thinking about it twice.

He'd quickly rushed down the stairs, following the steps he could hear a couple of floors down, and kept his distance until they were both out of the condo.

"Hermione", he tried.

The girl straightened her shoulders for a second, displaying with no possibility of doubts that she'd heard him, but kept her pace and didn't look back.

"Hermione", he repeated, this time louder.

Draco rushed just enough to catch her by the wrist, forcing her to turn around and look at him in the eyes.

"Please. Let me walk you home".

"I can go home by myself", she stiffly replied, her chin held high with contempt. "I don't need you".

"I think you do", he smirked. "You don't have to talk to me if you don't want to, but I promised Theodore I would have personally checked you got to your flat without inconveniences of any sort".

"Fine", she sighed, holding herself more tightly into her cardigan.

The moon was high in the sky and a slight wind was blowing, sending shivers down her spine.

Hermione would have never admitted she was cold (and to Draco Malfoy of all people), but he seemed to notice her discomfort anyway, because he quickly took off his sweatshirt and placed it on her shoulders.

She didn't bother answering him but acknowledged the kind gesture with a small nod of her head.

"Theo is just worried sick about you, you know?", he nodded after a while, when the awkward silence had turned into a much more comfortable one as they walked side by side, eyes focused on their surroundings.

"I know that, but Jane and William Granger are a topic I don't like to discuss. Or think about", she said. "They belong to my past, though they never did really belong in my life, did they?"

Draco thought carefully about his reply.

He knew what the witch needed right now was comfort, but he wasn't sure he was the best to provide it, and suddenly he was on the edge of regretting his decision of walking her home, though when she'd left Blaise's his body had moved before his mind could stop it.

"They had an impact on who you are no matter the perspective you look at your history from", he coolly pointed out.

"At least I can blame part of the mess I am on them", she darkly muttered.

" _The blame-game does not produce a winner_ ", he chanted.

Hermione measured his last sentence for the rest of their walk; it had hit a nerve she didn't knew she possessed and it was now sticking to her.

She couldn't say why, but Draco Malfoy was proving himself to be someone she really enjoyed talking to, at least when they weren't bickering and mocking each other.

He was a clever wizard with interesting opinions and they shared the same kind of dark-ish sense of humor.

And _Godric_ , did he know how to talk to an audience.

She eyed the gate of her condo, unsure of what to do next.

"That would be me", she said, quietly.

Draco took an automatic step away from her, as if ready to disappear from her sight as soon as possible.

"Would you like to come in and chat a little?", she asked in a whisper.

At first Draco blinked, gaped, flushed red on his cheeks and displayed almost every embarrassing reaction ever existed.

He coughed, trying to clear his throat from the knot he sensed in it.

"I have more wine", she added with a small smile and a softer tone.

Draco seemed to snap out of his _loop_ , because he quickly took a few steps to be closer to her, a large grin on his face.

"I believe we have a date with _psychoanalysis_ then".

That was the night the impossible happened, and an unlikely pair forged a tentative friendship.

They discussed their histories and feelings for hours, two bottles of the finest Elf-wine on the market to keep them warm, and though they never really went into details, especially Hermione, by the time they were opening the third bottle they were not only utterly drunk (again), but also completely comfortable with each other's presence.

They both recognized that to some level the buzz had something to do with just how relaxed they were both feeling, but what really was keeping them awake, focused and ever-so-interested was the conversation.

"I won't believe until I see it", Hermione chuckled, a hand on the wizard's knee in a touch that was unconscious, but somehow still not casual.

They were both too absorbed in laughter to register her move. Draco had just finished telling her of the time Adhara had forced him to buy her one very special doll: not long after the war Zonko's Joke Shop had launched a line of products dedicated to the Golden Trio, and one day a couple of years later, his daughter hadn't stopped pouting until she had had a brand new _Hermione Granger_ in her puffy hands.

"The worst part is that she's not the kind of child who throws a fit very often, and she's never done something like that for a toy", Malfoy was now explaining. "I surrender to the fact my only child could have a thing for you, Granger".

"Suits you just well", she sardonically retorted. "It was a nice one?"

"What?"

" _The doll_. Well, me. In doll form".

"I think the original is prettier", he said after taking a long look at the woman next to him, whose hand was still placed on his knee. "Can I tell you something without you hexing my balls off?"

"It depends on what it is that you want to say", she replied, a playful smile on her mouth.

It was the first time Draco had a chance to see it bare, and though he enjoyed the halo of cockiness her bold lipsticks usually gave her, he found himself hypnotized by the fullness and the natural colour of her lips.

"I like the eyes", he confessed, pointing a finger at her face.

He couldn't say if the flush on his cheeks was due to the wine or to the fact he was _flirting?_ with Hermione Granger, but he tried to figure out the reason for hers, too.

"What do you mean?", she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

"Don't take this the wrong way, I swear I meant it as a compliment".

"Well, that's not the smoothest of opening lines for a compliment, is it?"

"What I mean is that despite how mean I've been to you on the matter when we were younger, even I couldn't deny you had good looks after Yule. But I think the change in your eyes has stepped up your game, in a way. I always thought there was something odd about your eyes, I guess that now I know why", he chuckled nervously.

"Don't worry about that, Malfoy", she smirked, "I like these eyes better, too. It's kind of cute you noticed the eyes, as I had been tormenting myself about all the other things that shifted the night my glamour charm faded away. Like, would you look at the tip of my nose?", Hermione asked excitedly, moving her face very close to Draco's so that he could see for himself.

She hadn't calculated she would have felt his breath caressing her face.

"What about it?", he asked after staring at it long enough to convene there was nothing wrong in its shape, dimension or angle.

"It's fucking perfect! I spent eighteen years of my life cursing my nose because it had the oddest curled-up potato shape", Hermione said.

Draco looked at her nose once again, then spontaneously did something Narcissa had used to do with him, and he usually did with Adhara. He slowly leaned forward, then positioned his mouth in front of its tip and lightly grabbed it between his teeth, squeezing gently before pulling off.

Just like that. He'd bitten Hermione Granger's nose because he'd felt like doing so.

The former Slytherin didn't know he'd felt the need to such a thing, she'd just looked so beautiful, with her messy ponytail and the flustered chest, that he hadn't been able to stop himself.

The wicked thought of kissing her abruptly entered his mind.

He was about to cover the short distance between their lips when Hermione closed her eyes.

What for the brunette had been a shiver of foretaste, Draco interpreted as an act of fear.

"Changed something about the cheeks, too?", he asked, eager to change the subject.

They talked a bit longer, but the atmosphere of complicity they'd so easily created had just as easily been replaced by one of discomfort.

When they'd both wore off their buzz decently, Draco announced it was his time to leave and Hermione escorted him to the fireplace, from which he would have landed home much faster than by using the muggle exiting and walking until a safe spot to dis-apparate.

Maybe he didn't deserve to kiss the girl, but surely he wasn't that bad of a person anymore if Hermione Granger trusted him enough to establish a connection, though only temporary, between their houses.

Especially since his Manor was the place where she'd been tortured.

That's what haunted him that night, as he tossed and turned in his sheets.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hey, my darlings! Chapter 8th is up. :))  
I remember it was kind of hard to write,  
and I hope you enjoyed it. We are finally  
approaching the Dramione part of this story,  
but I'll need you to be patient a little more  
in this regard. If you follow the story on tumblr,  
you already know that soon you'll stop waiting.  
I hope you like Slytherins as much as I do,  
because they are my favorites and there will be  
a lot of them in this story (Lucius and Narcissa  
are coming back very, very soon, too).  
Before I let you return to your day, I really want  
to thank you all for the positive response to my  
story. I really appreciated it.  
Have a nice weekend! :)


	9. RAKE IT UP

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **9.**

 **RAKE IT UP  
**

.

" _we won't never write no statement, we ain't showing up in court,  
we don't beef on social sites, we don't do no arguing  
we don't do no rumours, we don't don't pay no shooters, brr_"

* * *

 ** _Nott Foundation, July 27_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

"I think you've made the right choice", said Hermione as she watched Theo packing away his belongings from his office at Nott Foundation. "The girl you picked as your substitute looks very promising".

"Lauren is extremely qualified", he nodded, picking up his favourite quills and stuffing them inside the black box on top of his desk.

Theodore was standing behind it, while Hermione was comfortably sitting on the arm of one of the chairs on the very front, holding a Starbuck's paper cup in her hands.

It was one of her quirks, as he'd recently discover, to drink hot beverages during summer.

"Has she been working with you for a long time?"

"Since the very beginning. She had just been hired when I took reins of the company, and despite the fact she was way better than me at all of this, I always knew she had my back".

"That seems… deep", she mused, cocking her head to one side. "Is there something else?", she asked, casually sipping some of her caramel chocolate.

"Not really", he muttered as a reply. "Could have been, but before I could finally convince myself to take the chance I found myself engaged".

Hermione frowned. "The whole thing with Daphne still bothers me", she admitted.

"Yeah, I know", he smiled. "But she's been there during my darkest moments. If I could turn back time I would help her again".

"I'm not bothered because you're helping her. That's quite nice of you, actually. I'm bothered because both you _and_ Daphne are not living the life you deserve. You deserve a relationship that _fulfils_ you".

The phone in the back pocket of Hermione's denim shorts vibrated.

"It's Pansy", she said after she checked out her notifications. "She said that she's just arrived at the Tree Broomsticks. Ginny and Blaise are already there, too".

"Yeah, well, tell her that we'll be there in twenty minutes or so. I need to check a couple of documents and I want to thank Lauren for taking over", he announced before finally grabbing the papers he was looking for.

He quickly skimmed through his own words, making sure everything was ready and settled for the change in Nott Foundation's leadership.

It was a decision he'd taken at the beginning of his second week of leave from work. In merely seven days most of the stress he'd accumulated in the years had dissipated, he'd finally learned how to enjoy himself again and he didn't miss his job one bit.

An honest, heart-to-heart conversation with his sister had finally convinced him.

Theodore had repeated once again that the only reason he'd kept the business alive was to share it with Eloise once he'd have eventually found her.

Now that they were together, there was no reason for him to waste his life into something he didn't like.

They'd agreed to split shares of the society evenly, with much pressure from Theo on the latter issue, but to leave the active leadership of the company to someone else; Hermione was going to invest her personal capitals to revamp the family society and give it a chance to flourish once again, while Theo finally got time to figure his life out, then eventually decide if he wanted to do something with the spot his sister was reserving for him at MagiTech.

He hadn't been particularly keen on the idea of letting her put all that money in the family business, but keeping the Nott Foundation alive was the reason he'd almost bankrupted twice in the past three years, and he'd been forced to access his private vaults to pay some of the debts his father had contracted with many wizarding banks all over Europe.

Apparently, at some point after the return of the Dark Lord, Cantankerus Nott had been forced to give his master insane amounts of money.

Theo shivered any time he thought about what could possibly have been accomplished, in his list of terrors, with the gold he'd taken from his family.

Besides, who knew how many people he'd extorted money from.

"Maybe you should ask her out", the witch casually said. "Explain her what's happening with Daphne and see if when you're done with your little play she wants to have dinner with you".

Theodore uncomfortably forced himself to raise his eyes from the papers, then frowned. "I'm afraid that ship has sink a long time ago, but thank you for your concern", he muttered without much conviction to back up his words.

"Why? She's really beautiful, but she also seems like the kind of woman you actually want to have dinner with before jumping into the bed. I think you should at least consider it", she persisted.

Theodore furrowed her brows. "Oh, _Salazar_. It was Draco, wasn't it?"

"Well", she muttered, blushing. "He may have mentioned that you had the hots for the girl. And that you never did something about it".

"She slept with Blaise", he sighed. "It wasn't long after my engagement with Daphne was announced. It was her way of showing me that she was moving on, and since she's been pretty clear about how much I hurt her, I wish not to storm back into her life and re-open those wounds. But I am open to dating, as soon as I'm single man. Merlin knows how much I need a good _fuck_. Who am I kidding? It's been so long since I've properly been out with a woman that I would be happy just by smelling one up close".

"I'm glad to hear you never slept with Daphne", she chimed in.

"That's not what I said", he cheekily replied.

"Ew", Hermione squirmed on her seat. "How could you? She's our cousin!"

"It may not be common or publicized, but in our world incest is not as taboo as it is for muggles, at least until the people you shag it's just your cousin, or your brother's wife, and not your parents or your siblings. It happened only once, anyway, and we both agreed it had been a mistake".

"You shouldn't have done it in the first place!", she retorted.

"You know what the Italian muggles say…", he trailed off as he swiftly approached the door.

"What do they say?"

" _There's nothing as divine as fucking that cousin of mine_ ".

He'd already closed the door of the office behind his back when Hermione's purse hit the wood.

* * *

Hermione and Theodore showed up at the Tree Broomsticks thirty minutes later then she'd received Pansy's latest text.

Meanwhile, Draco and Ron had joined the group, and they were stiffly sitting next to each other. They hadn't even said as much as 'Hello' to one another.

"Sorry we're late", Hermione said in a general greeting. "We've been clearing out Theo's office for Lauren", she added, with particular emphasis on the girl's name. She could hear him cursing her under his breath.

"Ron, it's nice to see you", her gaze softened on the familiar spot of red hair.

"Couldn't avoid it, could I? It's Harry's birthday we're talking about", he curtly replied. "Wouldn't miss it for anything in the world".

The last part sent a sharp wave of pain through Hermione's chest, as the reference to herself hadn't been very subtle, but she managed to keep control of herself.

"Such a good friend", she mused. "Because it's parties the moment to prove you have someone's back".

She had to admit it, mentioning the time he'd left them during their hunt for Voldemort's Horcruxes had been a low blow.

Nonetheless, if war was what Ronald wanted, war she would have given to him.

"Do you think we can borrow Finnigan's nightclub?", Pansy chimed in, eager to ease the tension and start off preparations for her boyfriend's birthday party, possibly getting everything settled before things went out of her hands.

"Shouldn't be a problem", Ron shrugged. "He'd throw a party for Harry every weekend if Harry only asked".

"On to the next issue, then", the dark-haired witch replied. "Music, food and drinks".

"Draco and I could handle the music", Theodore proposed.

Ron scoffed in his direction, the punch he'd received from the wizard still burned in his memories.

"Why are you here in the first place?", he spat. "It's Harry's birthday we're talking about, he is no friend of yours. You probably shouldn't even be invited".

"Ronald", Hermione hissed.

"They may not be his friends, yet, but they are mine", Pansy icily glared at him. "And Harry is my boyfriend, whether you like it or not. I was hoping we could put the past behind us and try to act like civilized people, _for Harry's sake, of course_ , but apparently it is not possible to reason with you".

Ron's ears quickly matched the colour of Hermione's strapless crop-top, the whole situation getting ten times worse when his eyes focused on her cleavage in his desperate attempt to escape Pansy's contempt.

"We'll send you an invitation as soon as we're finished planning. I appreciate your effort of coming here to meet with us, Ronald", Hermione reprimanded. "But it's clear that five years have done nothing to change your attitude. I'm afraid mine is quite different, though, and I won't chase you around just because you've suddenly decided you're pissed off at me! I'm not the girl I was in school, I can close my door in your face if it comes to it".

"Suddenly decided?", Ron shouted, slamming the palm of his hands on the old, wooden table. "That's _rich_ , Hermione. That's very rich. You disappeared five years ago and since you returned all you've been doing is mingling with _Slytherins_. You haven't come to the Burrow once. That speaks volumes of the kind of friend you are, don't you think?"

"Ron, I-", she stuttered.

"Spare me", he spat, throwing her a disgusted look. "And don't bother sending me an invitation, I'll ask Seamus for the time and place".

Then he rushed towards the door and didn't look back.

"That was smooth", Ginny, who'd been silent until then, intervened. "Ron can be hard to _compromise_ with, for lack of better words. Hopefully, he'll come around soon".

"I don't think he will", Hermione muttered, darkly. "He's never looked at me that way before".

"Oh, Hermione. You are the smartest person I know, but sometimes you just can't notice the simplest things. I'm not sure you're aware of the variety of ways he's looked at you since you two met. He's always looked at you".

Bits and pieces of conversation from her dinner with Harry in the days following the reunion at Hogwarts bounced back in Hermione's mind.

 _'I was sad when you left, but Ron… Shit, Ron nearly lost himself waiting for you to return. It took him nearly two years to realize you weren't coming back anytime soon, and when that happened he forced himself to let you go.  
Now that you're back I can't even imagine how he must feel'._

After she'd heard that, the brunette had promptly asked Harry why he seemed so concerned with Ronald feelings on the matter, but not hers. She'd told him that she'd cared for him just as much as he cared for her, and that she'd suffered from the distance, too.

Harry had practically laughed at her face.

 _Oh, Godric. Sometimes you can be so oblivious, 'Mione. Ron was in love with you since Yule. I kept this secret for nine years, but now I'm done. I know it was never your intention to hurt him, and I believe you if you say that you've never realized it, but I won't sit back and watch you walk all over his feelings again._

She still wasn't too comfortable in Harry's presence after that conversation, and now that Ginny was practically saying the same, though in a less direct way, Hermione was forced to finally accept the truth.

Ron had been in love with her and she'd broken his heart without even knowing it.

"Back to the party, shall we?", Blaise tried to cheer up the group, but with few to zero results.

Pansy was the first to retrieve her enthusiasm. "We have only four days to make it perfect".

"So, Draco and I take the music if it's not a problem", Theodore proposed again.

"Do you have something particular in mind?", Ginny inquired, an easy smile on her lips.

If there was someone with the ability of making everyone feel safe and shielded it was Ginny, she could very much understand why Blaise seemed so crazy about her.

After their discussion almost two weeks before Hermione had talked to her red-haired friend, reassuring her she had no problem whatsoever with her relationship with Blaise, and that even if she had Ginny should simply tell her to go to hell.

They must had figured things out after that, because both their Mirror profiles were now full of pictures with the two of them together, and as they played with their hands laced on top of the table, they looked like the main characters at the end of a romantic comedy: happy, fulfilled, crazy in love with each other.

"Live music, perhaps?", her brother suggested.

She was trying very hard to forget what Ronald had said to her, but her heart was aching nonetheless.

"That would be cool".

* * *

It took the group approximately forty to fifty minutes to make all the big decisions concerning Harry's birthday party, and at 3 o'clock, after a quick lunch with the specialty of the day, half of the people involved had returned to their occupations.

Ginny had come back to her training session with the Holyhead Harpies, the team for which she played as a _Seeker_.  
She was one of the top players in her category and had just been offered a spot in the national team for the world cup along with one of her teammates, former Ravenclaw Cho Chang, who played as _Chaser_.

Blaise had left before lunch even started, admitting he'd come only to see a glimpse of his girlfriend before she returned to Glasgow, where the team had its operative base and the witch had rented a lovely little flat to live in during the Quidditch season.

Pansy wished her goodbyes before they could order their second drink, muttering something about visiting the venue so that she could made her mind up about decorations and such.

And that's how Hermione found herself squeezed between Theodore and Draco, sitting in a stool at the Tree Broomsticks, tipsy at 3 in the afternoon.

They were playing a game the two Slytherins were rather familiar with, as the wizarding version had been quite popular in the dungeons back in the day.

 _Most Likely_ was rather addicting for Salazar's students, as part of their daily entertainment came from laughing at someone else's expense.

"Who's the most likely to… _Get married before his thirties_ ", said Hermione when it was her turn once again.

Her finger swiftly pointed at Theodore, as did Draco's, while her brother raised both his hands and picked them both.

"That's not fair", Draco grumbled, hastily emptying his shot.

"Sue me", Theo chuckled.

"Maybe I will", Hermione chimed in. "Your turn, Draco", she added, when the three of them had emptied their shots as the modifies rules of their game required everyone nominated to drink.

In the past two weeks she'd grown to the wizard close enough to drop the _Malfoy_ and call him by his given name, at least when he didn't piss her off, and he was doing too, but the blond hadn't mentioned the fact he'd so obviously almost kissed her, so she'd pushed the thought back into a corner of her mind.

It wasn't disappointment what she'd felt when she'd opened her eyes and Draco had jumped on his seat like touching her was burning his skin, right?

It was Draco Malfoy she was thinking about, a former enemy who was a single father at the age of twenty-three and also happened to be the nephew of the woman who had used the _Cruciatus_ curse on her.

There was no way or reason for the two of them to _ever_ kiss.

( _Right?_ )

"Who's the most likely to…", he started, but the crowd of wizards who suddenly entered the Three Broomsticks Inn stopped him in his tracks with their loudness.

"Turn it on, Rosmerta!", shouted a chubby, middle-aged wizard with grey hair and a long, bristly beard as he sat with his comrades in one of the few empty tables.

People kept flowing into the pub, gathering in front of the 30 inches television that was placed in the left corner of the bar counter.

"Isn't that one of yours?", Theodore asked his sister, pointing at the display.

MagiTech's elegant, minimalistic logo shined for a second before the black background turned into the first ever wizarding sports channel.

"Yeah, that's one of _ours_ , Theo", she corrected him. "I discontinued that model ages ago, though. It was one of my first prototypes, but I discovered soon a better way to channel the magic in it".

"I'm sorry, I guess it's still hard to believe you gave me twenty-five percent of your company. I received my first check yesterday and… how can I say it?"

"It was _sick_ ", Draco intruded.

"Yeah, thanks mate. It was sick", the other continued. "I've always been _disgustingly_ _rich_ , maybe not so much after the war, with all the reparations, taxes and the problems with the Foundation, but that kind of money is exaggerated even for me".

"Me, too. And I've always been _richer_ than him".

Hermione chuckled, then waved his protests off with her hand.

"You have no idea the kind of check you'll get the day I die, then".

Theo smirked, but then he analysed her sentence on a deeper level: it wasn't the first time she'd said something like that, and he remembered the _legacy_ speech she'd pulled out to convince him to sign the papers.

The war ended five years ago. Why was she ( _still_ ) afraid to die?

"I still don't understand why", he decided to say instead of addressing his concerns. "I did nothing to deserve any of this, not your money and even less your trust, not to mention your affection".

"That's not true", Draco and Hermione spat simultaneously.

The blond must had realized his _gaffe_ , because he blushed and then fixed his eyes on the empty glass in front of him.

As he did his best not to intrude into what was clearly a private conversation, wishing he'd figured that out sooner, the crowd of new arrivals started cheering, shouting and discussing the formation for both Quidditch teams competing that day: _Banchory Bangers_ versus _Falmouth Falcons_.

"You looked for me, Theo", Hermione whispered softly, but loud enough to be heard by both men at the table. "And that's more than _everyone_ I know has ever done for me. So, yeah, what's mine it's yours and _whatever_. Money is not important to me, it wasn't when I could barely spare enough dollars to eat at the end of the month, it certainly isn't now that I have more than I can count".

"That you do", Theodore joked, "But I'm still not sure I can accept all of this".

Hermione playfully smacked him in the head, then grabbed his chin and forced her brother to look at her in the eyes with a very serious expression on her face.

"You'll figure out a way. Besides from Pansy, you're the only real connection I've had in a very long time. And you _are_ my brother. I didn't have a family for five years, and even my memories from before that point are tainted. Can you please accept that I'm committed to this? To you?"

The witch had blushed slightly while asking her questions, suddenly very aware of the place they were in.

Their interview on _WitchWeekly_ had gone smashingly good, with Rita writing exactly the words they'd said, and many papers had corrected their previous allegations about the Golden Girl's motifs to associate with the son of a Death Eater.

Their affiliation, however, still filled the gossip section of every magazine in wizarding Britain, especially now that everyone knew about Hermione's secret life as Victoria Sallow, powerful owner and C.E.O. of the industrial colossus responsible for changing the life of billions of people, both in Australia and America, with her inventions.

All everyone could speculate about was when she'd finally bring her technology and innovations to her motherland, but some had also implied that dark arts could be involved in her products and wondered if the Ministry was going to do something about it.

It looked like people had completely forgotten who Hermione Granger was, because there was no way she'd appeal to evil forces for her personal gain.

She'd fought on Harry's side for seven long years, risking her life multiple times, and not once she'd questioned her actions: she had fought for freedom, but not only hers.

She'd fought for the freedom of everyone who couldn't fight for himself, no matter the blood status, or the species; it was who Hermione was.

She honestly believed she deserved a little more credit, she'd suffered, lost people she cared about and even endured torture, after all, while the same wizards and witches that were now accusing her, during the uprising of Voldemort had been carefully hiding and not taking sides.

"You have a family now, Hermione. As much shattered and poisonous as it may be, you have _your_ family beside you now. And that won't change as long as I'm breathing".

The witch couldn't restrain herself and control her reaction as she'd learnt to do. His words had opened a chest in her heart which she'd slowly and painfully closed many years before, and now she was simply amazed by the warm sensation she was experiencing.

Hermione threw her arms around her brother's neck without thinking about it twice.

If she'd been quite the affectionate type in her youth, surviving a war and entering adulthood had made her the opposite; she wasn't used to that kind of emotional rush anymore, to just _act_ based on what she was feeling.

It felt surprisingly good.

"Someone would say you have been practicing the _brother-thing_ for a very long time", she said, softly, regaining her usual composure.

"That's not fair!", barked the same man from before.

The Quidditch match had just started, live-streamed on the television just like any other game; MagiTech had designed a streaming service that worked just like your average muggle sports' channel, but instead of football it offered Quidditch.

Hermione was currently working towards a wizarding chess' channel, too.

" _Eat a dick_ , _Banchory Bangers!_ ", shouted a wizard around his thirties.

He had black, short hair and a sardonic smirk, and he was wearing the Falmouth Falcons' t-shirt with the number nine and the name Wallowski printed on the back.

" _Falcons! Falcons! Falcons!_ ", he chuckled, raising his glass of Firewhisky to toast to no one in particular. " _The Cup is ours!_ "

"Shut the fuck up, Grinder", scoffed the man next to him, probably a friend of his who didn't share his opinions about Quidditch, or who simply didn't want any trouble.

As a matter of fact, the middle-aged wizard raised from his seat and approached the duo, his hands clenched in fists and a sneer partially covered by the grey beard.

" _Do you have a problem with Bangers, mate?_ "

"That's more than enough, gentlemen", said Hermione with condescending tone. If there was one thing who really bothered her, it was people who resort to violence without even trying to talk first. "Why don't you have a nice cup of Madam Rosmerta's finest Butterbeer? My treat".

The men seemed to be thinking about it, discretely checking her out.

A small frown appeared on their faces when they spotted Draco and Theodore sitting next to her, but eventually they nodded. "I saw you on the Prophet!", said the youngest wizard in the group, _Grinder_ 's friend, a pale boy with ginger hair.

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Yeah, well, you should read WitchWeekly if you're interested in the real story. That's where the only official interview has been printed on".

His friend flashed a wicked smile at the brunette. "Are there any pictures?", he asked, licking his lips while slightly dipping his head down, in a gesture that was supposed to look sexy.

"Yes, a couple", she frowned. "What do you say we go somewhere else?", she added, turning her attention to the people she was sitting with.

Draco and Theodore nodded, promptly taking out of their pockets enough money to cover both the lunch and their drinks.

"I can't believe it!", Grinder whispered to his friend and the middle-aged wizard, his voice loud enough for them to hear.

" _Hermione Granger is fucking two Death Eaters_ ".

* * *

"You know what they say, once is chance, twice is a pattern…", Draco trailed off, doing a very poor job of hiding his chuckle.

They were currently hiding in a secondary street in Hogsmeade, very close to the path leading to Hogwarts, trying to catch their breaths after running away from the Three Broomsticks.

 _Hermione Granger is fucking two Death Eaters,_ the man had said.

"Twice is coincidence. _Third time_ is the pattern", the witch lectured.

"I'm pretty sure I wasn't the first or the only person you punched in your life", Draco replied with a smirk.

" _Sod off_ , Malfoy", she scowled. "He deserved it even more than you did in third year. There were so many disrespectful things inside that one sentence, I wouldn't know where to start placing them".

Then Hermione thought about what she had just done: she'd resorted to violence instead of trying to talk things through.

She shook her head, determined to ignore the voice in the back of her head, which was very similar to her psychologist's and spoke nonsense about her anger management issues; she'd solved them a very long time, or at least that's what she believed.

"It's probably good that out of the three of us it was you who punched the lad", stated Theodore, quietly.

There was no need for him to explain his words: both he and Draco were committed Death Eaters for the public opinion and five years of good behaviour and low profile had done nothing to change it.

They were labelled for life because of something they'd really had no choice over: Draco had been forced to join Voldemort's ranks to protect his parents, and selfishly himself, while Theo wore the stigma just because of who his father was, despite the fact he'd escaped his own home to avoid the Dark Mark during the summer before his sixth year.

" _Wow, that really killed the mood_ ", whistled Hermione.

"Welcome to our lives, Granger", Draco said, darkly. "Though I believe the law requires people to call us _'dark supporters'_. They've been trying to erase the word _Death Eater_ from collective memory for years".

"Well, the Ministry is known for always being on top of the bullshit game, isn't it?", she hissed. "I honestly thought that a good Minister would lead to a better Ministry as a direct consequence".

"Shacklebolt is a very good Minister, but he's not a political man. He is the only wizard there who cares about justice, yet his proposals are often rejected and his public consent is dropping. Next elections we'll probably get another Fudge, maybe one of those _fuckers_ from the Wizengamot", added Theo in the bitter tone he used only for topics that really pissed him off.

"He still has three years ahead of him, and please, give some credit to Kingsley", the witch retorted, "If there's someone who fits the role, that's him".

"He never said otherwise", Draco chuckled. "Just that bigger fishes are eating him alive without him even noticing".

She didn't reply, analysing his words in her mind instead.

Hermione had recently talked to the older wizard, who had invited her for dinner in his mansion along with other former members of the Order: Kingsley was very aware of his position; he'd expressed his resentment for the twisted laws the Wizengamot had promulgated in the past five years, bothered by the fact there was nothing he could do to stop the bigotry.

Just last month a new decree forced witches and wizards who were willing to marry to make an appointment with a new section of the Human Resources department, a scam they'd created shortly after the war to pry into the life of citizens without them standing a chance of protecting themselves or their privacy; the wizard and witch and both their families needed approval to make the marriage possible, and breaking the rule meant an absurd fine to pay.

The toxic level of hypocrisy was making her sick; the Ministry had found a way to both prevent people from alleged dark families to marry each other with no criteria whatsoever, but also gave a way-out to those willing or capable to pay the right amount of money.

"What do you mean?", she asked.

"Nope", Draco raised his hands in front of his chest, "Just like psychoanalysis, talking about politics requires wine, too. Besides, I need to pick up Adhara at kindergarten in less than an hour. I should be on my way".

"Look at you, Malfoy!", she chuckled. "Kindergarten? As in _muggle_ kindergarten? That's a long road you've walked".

"Her aunt signed her in without even asking", he shrugged. "But she's having a lot of fun in there, and her teacher is even positive that soon the other kids will help her start talking, so…"

Thirty seconds later, Draco was ready to dis-apparate.  
He fixed his eyes on Theodore, a playful smirk on his lips.

"Anyway, fucking _Bangers_ stood no chance today, mate".

The siblings both looked at the point where the blond had disappeared, then a chuckle came out of Hermione's mouth.

"See? I told you he's not that bad", he said.

"I suppose you were right. But _Wigtown Wanderers_ are way better than both _Falcons_ and _Bangers_ ", she said, sticking her tongue out.

"I'm sorry if it sounds rude, but you don't strike me as the Quidditch enthusiast type of girl", Theo said.

Hermione laughed, linking her arm to his, and they started walking towards Hogsmeade's main street.

"I wasn't. But growing up I learnt to appreciate the athleticism behind it. I like it how the game plays strictly by objective rules but it's really human talent and strategy what decides the outcome. Besides, MagiTech owns a lot of companies, and though muggle technology is our main focus, we happen to produce very different things, too. Like brooms. My personal broom is the best on the market, you know", she explained, her last sentence accompanied by a suggestive wiggle of her brows.

"Potter said in his book that you're terrified of flying. At least on brooms".

"Yeah, it's true. I used to not trust them, I couldn't understand how something you use to clean the floor is supposed to be safe for the purpose of flying. Then I designed my first broom, and studying the way they work eased my anxiety, I guess".

"So, you would be okay if I asked you to go to a Quidditch game with me".

"Yeah, no problem. I hated the game because it was all Harry and Ron could think about, though I suppose that it was good they had something to take their minds off of Voldemort and all that shit. I loved cheering for Gryffindor when we were students, though my favourite thing to watch is muggle football. I would be okay if you asked me…", she trailed off. "But there's something I wanted to ask you about, first".

"What is it?"

"What if we leave it all behind and we take two weeks to go… well, anywhere in the world, really. We are young, and we have the money, and I don't know about you, but personally I've never taken such a leave from work. Since we've missed twenty-three birthdays, I think we deserve two weeks in which we can do anything we want. And I mean _anything_ ".

Theo's eyes widened, and he stopped on his tracks, forcing Hermione to stop, too, slightly tugging her towards the back.

"Count me in".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, guys! Sorry this chapter comes  
one day later than it should have, but  
I've had a lot of things to do and earlier  
today fanfiction wouldn't let me access  
my "manage stories" section (I have no  
idea why). Hope you enjoyed this chapter.  
If you wish to know more, visit [ godisawitchfic ]  
on tumblr (as soon as this is online I'll post  
a small extract from the next chapter);  
otherwise the only thing I'll say is that for a while  
now things will only improve. :))  
Have a lovely week!


	10. IN MY FEELINGS

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **10.**

 **IN MY FEELINGS**

.

" _look, the new me is still the real me, I swear you gotta feel me  
before they try and kill me, they gotta make some choices,  
they runnin' out of options 'cause I've being going off  
and they don't know when it's stopping_"

* * *

 ** _The Lion's Den, Diagon Alley, July 31_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

Seamus had closed his pub to the public for Harry's birthday party.

People were forming lines outside the two-stories, old building, and many tables had already been booked up for the following weeks.

The nightclub he'd opened shortly after graduating had always been successful, especially because it was very common for wizarding celebrities, like war-hero Ronald Weasley, Quidditch star Cho Chang or worldwide famous model Parvati Patil to drop by on a weekly basis.

Harry Potter was a different matter, as he'd tried to avoid crowded places as much as possible since the end of the war; Ministry's employees and even his co-workers staring at him were already hard to bear for him, whom had been put under the spotlight since age eleven, and even before that, though he wasn't aware of it.

Over the years, The-Boy-Who-Lived had come to treasure anonymity and preferred either the muggle world or private houses for social gatherings.

When Pansy Parkinson had asked him to have The Lion's Den for his boyfriend's surprise birthday party, Seamus had given his consent without thinking about it twice.

He didn't care if the proposal came from a Slytherin, as many people had been so keen to underline for him, he owed Harry Potter his life just as much as anybody else.

Seamus had learnt in his fifth year what an awful vice prejudice really was, when he'd listened to his mother and gave Harry the cold shoulder.

Voldemort really was back. He was back the entire time.

He'd promised not to make the same mistake again, and his decision was proving to be the right one thus far.

"Happy birthday, Harry!", he cheered, raising the glass of champagne in his direction.

The birthday boy had just arrived, lured into the pub by his girlfriend and best friend, who sported two very similar black dresses that made a lot of heads turn in their direction.

Pansy was slightly shorter, leaving her long legs exposed, while Hermione's almost reached the end of her thigh, but had two long cuts running down her sides, which started at her hip. While the Slytherin had opted for plain black pumps and silver jewellery, the brunette had put on gold corset heels, earrings and layered necklaces, which nicely fell in her plunging neckline.

"We almost aborted the operation", the dark-haired witch was telling Seamus.

"Yeah, he won't leave the house no matter what we said", Hermione chuckled.

" _Then why am I here?_ ", Harry scoffed. "Really, I should have figured this party out. My only objection was about coming to Diagon Alley, since I'm always assaulted by the press whenever I come here, and they never push me on the matter under normal circumstances".

"One would think _Captain_ Potter has better investigative skills", said Ron, who'd just entered the room, patting his best friend on the shoulder.

The red-haired man was holding his wife by the waist protectively, like something inside the room could snap and attack her.

"Happy birthday, Harry", Lavender chirped, extending her arm to give him the shopping bag with his present. Her strawberry blond hair reached the middle of her back and tonight she'd styled it to be straight; the witch was wearing a red halter dress that tightly hugged her pear shaped figure.

"Happy birthday, mate", Ron repeated.

His eyes were roaming his proximities, but he stubbornly refused to look at Hermione.

He knew she was still mad at him, and he shared the feeling, but he'd regretted walking away from her, because there were things he still needed to say.

He threw an hesitant look at Lavender, who'd been rather quiet about Hermione's return to England. It wasn't much like her; Ron hadn't voiced his opinion on the matter, yet, since there were more important things they were going through right now, but her odd silence proved that she was bothered.

 _Why?_

He stiffened, but forced himself to stay still, next to his wife.

As much as he wanted to talk to Hermione, their chat would have had to wait.

"You must tell me where you find those girls", Seamus asked Pansy, pointing at the dancers who were moving in the middle of the room.

The group was made of a total of five girls: Sonja, a Russian witch with long, blonde hair that was dancing with only a tiny, silver bikini on; Dallas, an ebony goddess with a perfect hourglass shape that was further enhanced by her see-through white mini-dress; Skye, half-American and half-Japanese, who had black hair and hazel eyes in addiction to some killer moves; last but not least the Australian twins, Cinnamon and Pepper, with dark-brown, curly hair and tan skin, the youngest dancers in the crew.

A huge group of Slytherins walked through the main door before splitting in two: Gregory Goyle and his gorgeous wife, Tracey Davis, rushed to the bar with the Greengrass sisters, while Theodore Nott, Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini, whose girlfriend, currently at his arm, was the only Gryffindor in the group, started walking towards Pansy and Hermione.

"I'm afraid they'll refuse your offer, Seamus", the latter was saying. "They are here tonight because it's a personal favour, but usually the work in Sydney".

"How did you become friends with strippers, again?", asked Harry, who already knew but found the story very amazing for reasons Hermione hadn't discovered yet, but was sure would have annoyed the hell out of her.

"The strippers are your friends, Granger?", smirked Draco, who'd just reached them.

The blond turned his head in Harry's direction, then wished him a happy birthday.

Hermione waited for everyone else to do their greetings before she replied. "Yes, they are actually. We worked in the same place, though I merely tended to the bar. I swear I had the weirdest hours, but at least I had time to go to the business school in the morning".

"These girls are the best people to go to a party with, anyway", Pansy chimed in. "I never had as much fun as I did when we all went to Vegas two years ago. Perhaps we should consider going back again".

"I'm afraid Vegas it's out of the plate for me", the brunette snorted. "That's where I married Lex. Anyway, _enough about us_ , it's Harry's night".

After that, she gestured at the empty glass in her hands and quickly turned on her heels and disappeared; she hadn't missed Ronald's disapproving look, or the daggers Lavender was sending at her with her big, green eyes for no reason she could think of.

She hadn't stopped at the bar like she had made the others believe, walking through the door that lead to the balcony instead.

Over years of therapy Hermione had learned to control her _ochlophobia_ : it had been imperative, considering that her job had become more and more related with public relationships, but sometimes her anxiety still got the best of her.

She was glad she'd managed to escape from the crowd before her discomfort had turned into a full blow panic attack.

"What's the problem?"

The wizard's voice caught her off guard as she was leaning against the railing.

She would have risked falling down if he hadn't grabbed her by the waist, keeping her feet glued to the stone floor.

Hermione was a very skilled witch who had discovered a way to use her magic nobody else knew about, so she'd have probably landed gracefully and without her hairstyle being messed up, but she appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

"Thank you", she whispered, rotating on herself and raising her face so that their eyes could meet, blue facing grey with burning intensity.

" _Did you follow me, Malfoy?_ ", she asked.

* * *

"Would you like me to say that I did?", the wizard asked back.

Their bodies were very close, too tightly pressed together for a wizard of his age to maintain control of his actions.

Draco moved his hands from her hips to the railing behind her, trapping her between the metal and his chest.

"Are you okay?", he asked, tilting his head so that his eyes could be at the same height as hers.

"Not really", she scoffed. "I don't like my personal space to be invaded".

He took a long look at her: she wasn't very tall, around 5.5 feet of sheer beauty and luscious curves; he couldn't quite match the witch in front of him with the young girl he used to tease about the size of her teeth or frizzy hair.

He'd been directly involved in fixing the first problem during their fourth year, she still owed him a _thank you_ , and her curls had almost disappeared. She often wore her hair straight, but for some reason Draco preferred those days where she just left it be ( _a bit wild_ ).

"I'm sorry", he said, softly, then took a step back.

Last thing he wanted was to scare her off, especially now that she'd finally started to tolerate his presence.

Draco didn't know when her approval had started meaning so much to him, _or why_ , but he'd been determined to achieve it since he'd discovered about her identity; moreover, he'd started even before he knew she was his best friend's sister.

Though he'd waited for the outcome of his trial in Azkaban, Draco knew she had something to do the generous sentences given to the Malfoy family.

He'd always wondered what could possibly had been her reason to help them.

"It's not your fault", she said after a while, turning her back at him to look at the artificially illuminated street under the balcony. "I felt like someone was about to curse me".

"By someone you mean Weasel", he smirked. "But from what I recall, you've always been the best duelist in your little Golden Trio".

"I wasn't afraid his curse could actually hit me. I didn't want to cause a scene. I'm ready for whatever confrontation he'll bring my way, because I know there will be one, but I hope he'll be mature enough not to ruin Harry's birthday".

"He may not be my favourite person, or someone I like at all, but he really cares about Potter. He'll behave".

"I hope so", she replied, a sheepish smile on her hips.

It was only now that he noticed her accelerated breath, or the fact she was still supporting herself by leaning on the railway. Her eyes obsessively darted around, like someone or something was chasing her.

"Are you having a panic attack, Hermione?", he asked with the same soft voice he usually reserved to his daughter.

"I think I prevented that from happening by coming here", she shrugged. "But sometimes large crowds get a little too overwhelming for me, especially when I'm this sober".

"I don't think drinking your way out of problems is the healthiest of solutions", he joked. "Especially since your job requires you to attend to a lot of parties, events and other bullshit, _Ms. Sallow_ ".

"Victoria Sallow is as close to be an alcoholic as you can imagine", Hermione replied with a smirk. "But I do have other methods to deal my anxiety".

"Like what? _Meditation_?", Draco asked, mockingly raising one brow.

He'd always been sceptical about that technique, even though some friends who practiced it, like Blaise or, surprisingly, Gregory, had always spoke wonders about it.

"I'm not _patient_ enough for that", she revealed. "I was thinking something more like playing sports or… _sex_. Some drugs are not that bad, too, though they're not very different from alcohol".

"Aren't drugs supposed to be bad for you? Muggle or magical".

"They're definitely not good, some of them are potentially lethal and many give addiction, but there's still some fun stuff left. Like I said, it's very similar to alcohol, though that it's socially more accepted".

"Especially amongst muggles. Wizards are kind of fine with substances that alters your state of conscience, as long as you take them in private, of course. You'd be surprised by the number of potions they sell which have the same effects of muggle cocaine".

"Free Spirit Draught, Dragon's tears, Nightshade and Bitterroot Mixture… I believe there was a pill made of pulverized lycanthrope's hair a couple of decades ago, that thing killed a couple of wizards", she listed.

"You still have to know-it-all, don't you?"

"Someone has to, don't you think?", she retorted, her nose curled up.

The nickname had been a stigma she'd wore proudly during her first years as students; she had loved the recognition, the teachers' appreciation, but it had become too much, too soon, and Hermione had started feeling the pressure of people's expectations, burying her personality under a thick cover of knowledge.

One of the reasons she hadn't returned to England sooner was that it still hurt that nobody had ever took the time or interest to give her a deeper look. By the age of seventeen she could count the people who really knew her on one hand; she was an introvert, but that didn't mean she never enjoyed socialization.

Harry and Ron had always been the only two friends whom she could really talk to: the three of them all had strong tempers, though, and very often spent weeks without talking to each other before the next battle against the forces of evil forced them back together.

Pansy had been her real first female friend since she'd discovered she was a witch, when she'd been forced to bid farewell to all her childhood companions, people she hadn't seen since then.

"I didn't mean to insult you. I'd bet that you know a lot of exotic stuff, but I'm afraid you forgot to mention the _Bicorn Horn Movement_ that took place in the late 70's. People would chop up that thing and snort it, apparently it gave them all sorts of hallucinations. The Ministry had to banish it when some users started causing troubles, vandalizing public properties and such", he lectured _matter-of-factly_ , but all his eyes could focus on was the low cut on the back of her dress, that dangerously stopped just above the upper beginning of her bum.

She rotated her chest in his direction, with a pensive look on her face, exposing her Venusian dimples when the fabric shifted lower. _Well, but of course she had to have those, too_.

He was trying to calm Theodore's sister down, for _Salazar's sake_ , not to gather material for the next time he had a wank.

It wouldn't have been the first time he did something like that, though, as he remembered quite vividly those times during his sixth year when he'd thought about her in the privacy of his bedroom; shortly after he'd started questioning his father's principles and beliefs, those fantasies had started hunting him, and it had taken him months to find the strength to block them away and tell karma to _sod off._

Because his sixteen years old self having a _crush_ on Hermione Granger could only be karma trying to teach him a lesson.

"That was not a movement, it was people getting high so that they could justify their need for breaking things and hurting people with some badly made-up ideological bullshit. They raped three witches who hadn't come of age yet before the Ministry finally captured them", she said, determined to prove she knew what he was talking about.

It was a pity he'd always found knowledge to be a very attractive quality in a woman. It was what had lead him to Astoria in his youth in the first place, and she was the only girl he could say he'd truly loved.

It hadn't been enough to keep them together, and he'd broken up with her after two years of relationship shortly before the beginning of his sixth year, when fear for his parents' lives and the task the Dark Lord had assigned him had become too much to deal with, and he'd slowly and painfully turned into the ghost of his former self.

"They were four girls", Draco corrected her. "It happened to my mother's aunt, _Walburga_ , too. It's not written in the official records because the man who did that to her happened to be her betrothed, Orion Black, a second cousin of her who was also very powerful, and a personal friend of the Minister of the time. They buried the evidence, rushed the marriage and forced a fifteen year old to live with her rapist".

"That's… _horrible_. I met the woman's portrait, now I feel guilty for all the times I told her to fuck off. And, why would you tell me all that, by the way?"

"Don't feel guilty, you're not to blame for what happened to her, but I'm sure she took every chance she could to give you a taste of her venom. My mother locked the copy of her portrait in her possession in the basement as soon as the old lady left this world. Anyway, I told you her story because I feel like you're the kind of person who appreciates some insight, even when it's about your enemies. Besides, someone made sure I'd know that _the greatest thing you can do with knowledge is sharing it_ ", he smirked.

It felt oddly good to repeat the sentence who'd affected him so much the first time he'd read it, opening the original, signed copy of _Hogwarts: a History_ that he had paid two million Galleons for.

"Yeah, I'm sorry about that. I was just trying to raise the offer as much as I could", she said with a chuckle.

He hadn't given a second thought about the auction that had taken place at the reunion, it looked to him like years had gone by since then, but now that he focused his attention on what had happened, something was rather odd in his opinion.

"Why did you let me win the auction? You have far more money than I ever did", he frowned. "You could have just offered five or ten Galleons and take the book home. Everyone knows you used to have a _fetish_ for that thing".

"That I still do. But it wouldn't have been a business decision worth of Victoria Sallow to donate the book and then snatch it back, right? And I do have another original, signed copy, anyway".

The pieces of the puzzle shifted into their rightful places, and for reasons he didn't know Draco found himself beaming at her. "So, you made your offer only to raise mine?"

" _Ops… I did it again_ ".

"Last time _Grease_ and now _Britney_? And it's not the first time you cheat in an auction? Who are you?"

"Well, people can be extremely _penurious_ when it comes to donating money without a personal gain. Sometimes you need to _push_ some _buttons_ …", she trailed off with a conspiratorial look.

" _Fuck you, guys_!"

* * *

Theodore Nott had always been a quiet wizard who didn't like to be overwhelmed with anxiety, he was very happy to leave that to his sister, so he'd waited ten minutes after both Hermione and Draco had left before he'd started panicking and looking for them.

Since he'd first laid eyes on her a couple of months before, he'd felt like all the pieces of his life had finally come together; he'd grown more and more protective of the witch, and though he knew Draco would have not let anything happen to her under his watch, he was still worried as to why he'd so promptly left to go looking for her.

He hadn't missed the whispered conversations, or the looks they exchanged, or how they just seemed to get along.

That's how things were always supposed to be like, after all, with the Malfoys being an old, good acquaintance for House Nott and Narcissa being his mother's best friend and the twins' godmother.

That was a piece of information he hadn't shared with his sister, yet, and for obvious reasons: despite the fact she'd been polite to Lucius and Narcissa at the reunion and she'd also saved the woman from public humiliation a couple of weeks before, she still hadn't shared her opinion on the obvious changes the family, a family he felt part of, had gone through.

" _Fuck you, guys_!", he shouted after he swung open the glass door that lead to the balcony and finally spotted them. "I've been looking for you at the bar like an idiot! Is everything ok here?", he inquired, taking in just now the intimacy of their position.

His abrupt entrance had scared the brunette, who had jumped forward, almost landing in Draco's arms; the wizard, on his part, had placed a hand on her shoulder to help her standing and was looking at the woman with something very close to affection in his eyes.

"It is, now", the witch said, quickly distancing herself from the blond. "I wasn't feeling very well, but Draco helped me recover", she added, throwing a smile at her brother to tranquilize him.

"We were just heading back to the party, I think it's time Potter blows off his candles, don't you think?", he chimed in.

"And get his gifts", she nodded. "I can't wait to see his face when he opens mine".

Theo shook her head, refusing to overanalyse the situation in front of him.

Whatever was up between Draco and Hermione, it was entirely their business, though to him it looked like even they hadn't completely figured it out.

He'd always fancied picturing himself as the _lonely wolf_ , but really he knew nobody more solitary and reclusive than both his best friend and his sister; Draco hadn't expanded his circle of wizarding acquaintances since they'd ended Hogwarts, though that wasn't due to a lack of trying; since the end of the war his name had been an uncomfortable one to wear, even more than Theodore's, and people generally tended to ignore him and just spare him a cold glance, with the exception of not recommendable wizards trying to approach him for dark magic related projects and cheap tarts throwing themselves at him in a desperate attempt to milk some of his inheritance.

Theo remembered the blond to be the most prideful person he'd ever met, and it hurt to see the way he shrugged any time someone would make a malicious comment about him, quietly stating he'd deserved anything bad thrown at him.

He didn't like to see him so defeated and helpless, and though Adhara had definitely improved his life, he knew that there were still things missing in his life.

On the other hand, Hermione's situation was even worse.

Yes, she had the most successful career possible, she was a pioneer on both innovation and economics, founder and owner of the largest company in the world, but her private life was a complete mess.

The only person who could really say she was close to her was Pansy, and even her often complained about her best friend's coldness and reserved personality, wishing she'd finally let her in after four years of friendship ( _sisterhood_ ).

Hermione had estranged herself from the people she'd fought a war with, which completely baffled him; he hadn't bothered really knowing Blaise until the dark-skinned wizard had joined, uninvited, when he'd run away from home to avoid the Dark Mark between his seventh year, but after such an experience the two had almost grown to consider each other as a brother.

While Zabini's mother, Alexandra, had always been neutral about Voldemort, muggleborns and the war in general, her husband of that period, Philip Devon, his eight father-in-law, had been a fervent supporter of the Dark Lord and had tried to persuade him to join the ranks, resorting to a failed attempt at throwing the Imperious curse at him, which had ultimately led him to leave his childhood home.

He hadn't returned to the Zabini Villa, or talked to his mother, since then. Mr. Devon was still researched by the Ministry.

Maybe they'd become friends just because of the common ground they'd always had but always refused to acknowledge until then.

Hermione's voice snapped him out of thoughts.

"Are you coming?"

She and Draco were heading back to the party, one foot already through the door and similar questioning looks plastered on both their faces.

He nodded, quickly approaching the duo and making his way towards the middle of the room, where a giant cake on top of which an edible miniature of Harry catching the snitch in his Gryffindor's robes was standing.

The three of them waited patiently for the birthday boy to blow out his candles, make his wish and fervently kiss his girlfriend, who had just finished singing him Happy Birthday, before smearing some of the cake topping on her nose.

Before the guests could return to more pleasurable activities, such as drinking and shamelessly dancing, gifts were open and toasts were made.

When it was Hermione's turn, everyone listened to the words of her speech with watery eyes.

"Everyone knows I've met Harry Potter on my first ride on the Hogwarts Express, many books have been printed about our story. What many people don't know, Harry included, is that he's always been my rock. They always assumed I was the one keeping him focused with my constant nagging, but really it was him all the time. He's been the rock under which the entire wizarding world has hidden, too afraid to face Voldemort, but he's also been _my_ rock since the day he and Ronald saved me from that Troll in the dungeons…"

The story caused some people to chuckle, and even Weasley's expression softened when he was mentioned.

It looked like she'd rehearsed her speech over and over, but really, she was just that skilled with rhetoric.

She'd have probably driven their father mad during arguments, maybe even won a couple of them, a task Theodore had never personally succeeded in.

"Harry is the reason I never gave up, he is the person who kept me sane before, during and after some of the worst experiences of my life, things that should have never happened to people the age we were in the first place. Today, I want to be the one, for once, who helps you being a little less rational and a little more _insane_. Happy birthday, Harry. I love you, and I really, really missed you".

After she said that, she removed her wand from her throat, which had been placed there so that she could properly cast the _Sonorus charm_ , and flickered it twice.

A big, rectangular wooden chest flew in front of the wizard.

The-Boy-Who-Lived hastily opened it, finding two objects inside of it.

On top there was a rolled piece of parchment, which revealed an hand-made portrait of himself when he was eleven; moreover, it looked like a picture from the first day they'd met, he recognized his sweater, and she'd personally drawn it.

A tear rolled down his cheek when he noticed she'd even portrayed his glasses broken, just like they'd been when he'd first set foot on the train.

Underneath the drawing, lying on a bed made of red velvet, was a broom.

It wasn't just any broom, it was a sophisticated piece that hadn't hit the markets yet, and no-one outside MagiTech's labs had ever seen it.

He carefully placed the parchment back inside the chest, then took the broom in his hands, taking a feel of the dark wood that made the handle, or the carved detailed on the upper side.

 _Seven_ , the number on his Jersey when he played as Gryffindor's Seeker.

"I don't know what to say", he fumbled, still holding the broom as he rushed to hug his best friend. "This is too much, Hermione".

"That's nonsense", she replied, gently patting his shoulder before she pulled him a little tighter into the hug. "Now try it, _c'mon_ , I had my research team look into memories of old matches to adapt this little bad boy to your flying style. It's currently the fastest broom ever made by sixty kilometers per hour, and yours is a unique piece, enchanted to answer only to your touch. I think everyone here deserves to take a peek to the _Seven Heaven_ ".

Harry kissed both her cheeks, hugged her once again and swiftly mounted on the broom. "You know I hated that nickname", he chuckled, raising from a couple of feet from the ground.

The audience gaped when he flew higher, than started executing a series of difficult maneuvers.

The broom was just as fast as Hermione had implied.

"How did you make that possible?", he asked, bedazzled, once his feet touched the floor once again. "It was the best flight of my life".

"I told you, it was designed for you. Which means it's reckless. Mine is less sleek and more directed towards safety measures".

"You have your own broom?", gasped Ron, who'd approached the group and quietly listened to their exchange.

Something had warmed up in the way he was looking at both his friends.

"I know, right?", she chuckled, forgetting for a second about the bad blood between herself and the ginger wizard. "I have to admit that you guys were right about this one thing. Once I found a way to feel safe on a broom and overcome my fear of heights, I actually started to really enjoy flying…"

" _Told you so_!", the two men simultaneously spat.

The trio laughed and for a moment they felt like everything had gotten back to _normal_ , to when their only concerns were the next visits to Hogsmeade, Potion's essays and juvenile drama. Before the war had really kicked in.

Ron was the first to return to reality; his shoulder stiffened, his smile disappeared from his face and Hermione was preparing herself for his next nasty comment.

She knew Ron was still mad at her for leaving, though she'd had had all the right reasons to do so, in her opinion, but a small part of her couldn't help but hoping that just for that one day, for Harry's sake, they could put the past behind them, where it belong.

She'd terribly missed her friends in the five years they'd been apart, it felt extremely good to spend some time with them again. "There's one for you, too", she said, softly. "You know?"

"You shouldn't have bothered, I have a very nice broom", he replied, and this time he didn't avoid her gaze.

Hermione tried to read his face but mixed with the boy she'd grown up with there were the peculiarities which had made him the man he was today, stuff she didn't know one thing about. _Yet_ , she was hoping.

23 years old Ronald must had been less hot-headed and judgemental, because he scrutinized his old friend a little more and then, reluctantly, smiled.

"Maybe you two should drop at our place one of these days. The back garden is perfect for flying", he proposed. "And I think we deserve more than anyone in the world to see Hermione Granger's prowess on a broom. What do you say, Harry?", he added, looking up to the Boy-Who-Lived, who had been holding his breath until now, afraid that his two dearest friends could jump at each other's throat at any moment now.

It was too good to be true, but if there was one thing that spending his teenage years fighting Voldemort had taught him, is that you simply must enjoy the good things while they happen to you.

Harry Potter had longed stopped preferring regret over remorse.

"I'm in if she's in", he beamed at his friends, then surrounded Ronald's shoulders with his arm, offering the other one to the witch.

"I think you deserve more than that, boys. What about we directly play a Quidditch game?", she grinned.

Then she jumped into Harry's arms, and the trio hugged.

The guests who had paid attention to the exchange started whistling, furiously clapping their hands, but they didn't pay them attention.

They were engrossed in making arrangements for the match; since Hermione and Theodore had went through with her idea of taking a two weeks long vacation around the world and they would have left the following morning, they agreed on the third Sunday of August.

"We need eleven more people, that's for sure", the brunette was musing, when suddenly they were interrupted by the four people approaching: Ginny, Blaise, Pansy and Draco.

Theo, who'd assisted to their private moment while quietly standing near them, took the opportunity to address what he felt could become a massive elephant in the room.

"Weasley?", he called, then frowned when both Ginny and Ronald turned their heads in his direction. "The male one. Can I talk to you for a second?"

"Uh?", the other shrugged. "Sure. But keep your hands where I can see them".

He missed Hermione's questioning look as he gestured the red-haired to follow him not far behind, where they could talk with some privacy.

Theo sighed. "I'm sorry about that, _Ronald_ ", he said, sheepishly, forcing the wizard's name to fall out of his lips. "What I did has no excuse. I shouldn't have punched you, no matter what you implied with your words. Not because you're an Auror and if you weren't Hermione's friend I would probably be in Azkaban by now, but because violence is wrong, no matter the circumstances, and it should be avoided. I hope I didn't hurt you too badly, _I'm sorry_ ".

"Nothing that couldn't be fixed by Madam Pomfrey in less than twenty minutes", the other replied, not addressing Theo's apology. "I couldn't figure out a single reason why you wanted to speak to her so badly, and I guess it reminded me of how badly I wanted to speak to her, too".

"I don't think she left because she didn't care about you or Potter", he murmured, not sure if he could trust Ronald with his conjectures about Hermione's past decisions. "I think she was just too broken to stay".

"I could have fixed her", Ron reminisced. "And she could have fixed me".

"I'm sorry", Theodore repeated.

This time, he meant it.

The first time, he'd said it because he didn't want to cause problems between his sister and one of her oldest friends; making things right would assure they could potentially be civil towards each other, meaning Hermione would have never been forced to choose between one of the two.

He would have hated it if she resented him for losing a friend on his behalf, besides he wasn't even sure she'd have picked him over Weasley. He'd appeared in her life twenty-three years and five months later than he was supposed to, after all.

"It doesn't matter anymore", Ronald shrugged. "But you got one thing wrong in your deductions".

"What's that?"

"The reason you're not in Azkaban has nothing to do with my friendship with Hermione. If I had taken my decision based on that, you'd probably be there, because I was very pissed off at that witch. I didn't expose you because I saw how desperately you were looking for your sister. I lost a brother five years ago, I'm fairly sure _everyone_ deserves a chance to spend time with their family".

" _So… you're not mad I'm her brother, of all people?_ "

"I wasn't pleased at first, but… who am I to judge? You were born together, and I know that to some people that means a lot", he said, his eyes painfully shutting down at the mention of Fred and George.

"Your brother was one of the coolest kids that ever went to Hogwarts, seriously. The twins even came to a couple of Slytherin parties".

"Did they, now?", Ron chuckled. "Yeah, that was totally like them".

Silence fell upon them, but the loud surroundings of celebrating young people kept them company.

"You miss him", stated Theodore after a while.

"Yeah, I do", the other muttered. "It's not as overwhelming as it used to be, but there are still those moments when I'm happy and suddenly that happiness is torn away from me because I think that he should be with me, he should be happy, too. What's terrifying is that I never know when one of those moments is about to come".

"I get it. When I was around four or five my parents told me that _Eloise_ , uh, I mean, Hermione… They told me she died at birth. I spent the first two decades of my life feeling like that, sad because she wasn't with me and guilty because I was alive. But not happy very often, I'm afraid. When my father died I received a letter and I discovered she was still alive, and someone I knew. Someone who would have most certainly hated me, and the family we come from".

"Hermione is not like that", Ron shook his head. "She won't judge your character until she sees what your true colours are. It's her gift".

" _She is my gift_ ", Theo said.

"Take very good care of it, then", the ginger suggested. "I don't know what she's been up to in Australia, but deep down she's still the witch I met when I was eleven. Usually I'm not the best at reading people, but something has happened to her. She'll never talk to me or Harry about it, but maybe you can use your trip to help her heal some of her wounds. If I could turn back time, I would definitely provide for Fred any help he could ask for".

"I'll do it. Thank you, Ronald", Theodore nodded solemnly. "I'll see you around".

"One more thing before I go back to my wife", Ronald called, stopping him on his tracks. "Third Sunday of August, Quidditch at my place, do you have a couple of friends to bring with you?"

Theo smirked. "I'll see what I can do. I'll add you on Mirror so that we can talk about it".

* * *

Around three a.m. guests had started leaving, and by thirty past four only the birthday boy, his girlfriend, the pub's owners and few other people were still present, saying their goodbyes as they all left The Lion's Den.

"Goodnight, Harry. I'll see you soon", Seamus said to The-Boy-Who-Lived before he apparated home.

"I'll just head to the office", Dean muttered, "My shift starts in less than two hours, there's no way I can get some sleep".

"There's some Hangover potion in the third drawer of my desk, just make sure to replace it in a reasonable time", said Harry, emphatically.

The dark-skinned Gryffindor dis-apparated with a loud _Pop!_ , leaving Harry, Ginny and Hermione to represent Godric's House. Pansy, Blaise, Theodore and Draco were still there.

"The Ice-Cream Parlour should open in half an hour", Hermione said to her brother. "We could consider an early breakfast, our PortKey leaves in five hours from Sydney. It'll take forty minutes to Australia from the one at my place, and twenty more for us to reach the Australian Ministry from my office", she added when she noticed Theo's frown.

He'd been drinking quite heavily that night, and could have used a couple hours of sleep, but being reminded of his upcoming holiday with his sister seemed to be enough to cheer him up.

He shrugged. "Fine. Any of you guys want to come?", he asked, addressing nobody specifically.

Pansy and Harry refused her offer, implying their celebration wasn't over yet, just _personal_ , so the couple wished a nice holiday to Hermione and Theodore and then headed to where the wizard's car was parked.

With a loud noise from the engine, they disappeared into the dark.

The remaining people agreed to a cup of coffee; who had to go to work, _Draco_ , knew it was too late to get some useful sleep, and needed the beverage to keep themselves going; who had nothing to do the following day, that would be Ginny and Blaise, were just curious about the twin's trip.

They walked their way to Florean Fortescue's and waited patiently for the owner to show up, turn on the lights and welcome them into the shop.

They were the only clients at that time of the day, and they consumed their hot drinks and pastries while the older wizard worked on making the ice-cream for the day.

As soon as his cup was empty, Draco eagerly stood up from his seat.

"I would love to stay, but I want to develop some of the photos I took tonight before I take Adhara to kindergarten", he excused himself. "I'll see you in two weeks, don't forget to send me some pictures, mate", he greeted Theodore and Hermione.

Grabbing his muggle Reflex from the table, he turned on his heels and left.

Draco had developed a passion for photography during the two years he'd spent with muggles, and even when he'd returned to the wizarding world he'd kept taking his pictures in the muggle way; there was something extremely fascinating in the way a single moment in time could be paused and conserved forever, which was why it had only felt natural to further pursue his hobby when he'd regained access to the Malfoy vaults at the end of his probation, and his art had eventually became his job.

He obviously hadn't asked Pansy for a compensation, and took the pictures as his personal gift to Potter, considering he had no idea what the wizard could have liked, but he was treating this assignment as seriously as he would have treated any other, which meant he had to print the pictures as soon as possible so that he could use the special technique he had developed.

With the help of a bit of undetectable magic, he'd found a way to alter the atomic composition of the picture to make the colours look more vibrant, and his shots generally more fluid, while the photos remained still.

It was his signature, something visible only to wizards, and his technique was an enormous success with muggles.

Back at the table, Ginny was pestering Hermione with questions about the itinerary, which apparently Theodore knew nothing of. "At least tell us where you'll go first, or last. Or a stop in the middle. Something, Hermione, I beg of you", the red-haired snapped.

The lack of sleep and drunk-ness had only been partially tempered by the generous breakfast the youngest of the Weasley children had eaten, so she really didn't have the patience to overanalyse her friend's cryptic answers.

"Fine. The first place we'll go to is completely inhabited, while the last one is one of the most crowded places in the world. In the middle I'm pretty sure I made plans for a stop to Japan", the brunette conceded with a smile. "And that's all I will say about the topic. I hate _spoilers_ ".

"Don't we all?", Blaise chuckled, offering his sympathy though secretly he was glad his girlfriend had insisted so much.

He'd been a fan of both Hermione Granger and Victoria Sallow for years now; of the former he admired the courage to stand up to Voldemort, the Death Eaters and anyone else who'd tried to make her feel wrong and misplaced, including him during a couple of occasions during their first years as students, while the second had captured his attention and admiration since the very beginning of her career because of her magical talent and inspired vision.

Ginny tried to push for details, but eventually gave up with a sigh.

"Let's talk about the Quidditch match Ron was telling me about, then", she smirked. "He was wasted to the point he said _you_ were going to play, 'Mione. That was exhilarating".

"I'm the one who proposed Quidditch, actually", the brunette shrugged. "I found out that it's not half as bad as I thought to play, and I remember always refusing their offer to teach me back in the day".

"Basically, you feel guilty for letting them down. Are you sure this is about Quidditch, Hermione?", Ginny asked, cocking one brow.

She'd always been perceptive, but it was the first time since she'd returned that Hermione's face gave away something on how she was really feeling.

"Perhaps I just want to spend time with my friends", Hermione admitted, a light blush on her cheeks. "And test my Quidditch abilities, of course".

"That's more like you", the other conceded with a smile. "I told you Slytherins aren't the only ambitious folks around", she added, slightly turning her head so that she could look directly at her boyfriend.

"We already know about Gryffindor's obsession for victory, don't worry", Blaise retorted.

"Anyway, I can't wait to see you on a broom. You were an hopeless flyer", Ginny ignored him, addressing only the witch.

"It took like, what? _Three_ flying lessons for the broom to respond to your commands, right?", Theo chimed in. He seemed to have recovered from his night of drinking madness.

" _Witch at the handle, beware of the scandal_ ", Blaise recited.

"You just made this very personal, _love_ ", Ginny hissed.

Prejudice against women in Quidditch was, sadly, still a thing, especially among players; even though she knew that Blaise had only meant to joke and rile Hermione up a bit, it was still a touchy subject for her to deal with.

"Witches against wizards it is".

Blaise tried to talk his way out of his girlfriend's proposal, but she was determined to go through with her idea.

She was a Gryffindor, too, and like he had just pointed out, Godric's folks liked to win very, very much.

"Maybe it's time we go pick up our things", said Hermione, sensing the tension creeping up. She wasn't afraid a major argument would have started, but she remembered Ginevra being one feisty witch, and Blaise, though very gallant, didn't strike her as the type of man who let his girlfriend walk all over him.

It was better for her and Theodore to leave now, and that's exactly what they did: they accepted the couple's offer of paying for the breakfast, then they said goodbye and walked out the door, just in time to watch the sunrise.

Nobody said it out loud, but neither Theodore nor Hermione had ever felt so intensely free before.

 _The world was theirs for the taking_.

* * *

 **END OF PART ONE.**

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, sweethearts! Chapter 10th is here. :)  
It's the longest one so far, and I hope you enjoyed.  
Next chapter will be the interlude, then we'll be into  
the second part of this story, where the Dramione will  
really start to kick in. I personally can't wait.  
One thing I want to address before I let you go back to  
your day is Ron's character: I know you're probably  
confused right now, but I promise that very soon some  
answers will be given to you and his behaviour will make  
a lot more sense. Usually I go for straight Ron-bashing  
(I never liked him, ugh), but with this story I want to  
experiment, so... he'll still be a pain in the ass a couple of  
times, but I'm determined to give him the right depth.  
So, yeah... stay tuned! Have a lovely weekend! :))

 **p.s.** _what do you guys think about the story, so far?_


	11. DNA

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **INTERLUDE:**  
 _ **"AND I WISH I WAS FED FORGIVENESS"  
**_

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 **11.**

 **DNA**

.

" _i got power, poison, pain and joy inside my DNA  
i got hustle though, ambition, flow inside my DNA  
i was born like this, since one like this, immaculate conception (…)  
i got dark, i got evil, that rot inside my DNA  
i got off, i got troublesome heart inside my DNA  
i just win again, then win again, like Wimbledon I serve_"

* * *

 _ **Malfoy Manor, August 16**_ _ **th**_ _ **, 2003**_

The atmosphere could have been more relaxed in Hermione's opinion, but thus far the dinner Theodore had begged her to attend to was proving way easier to cope with than she'd anticipated.

Before the two weeks they had spent travelling the world, in which their bond had developed and reached a completely different level, she would have declined his invitation.

She'd been tortured in the damn house, and though she didn't mind Draco's company, she was sure that it was enough of a reason for her to never step a foot in it again.

However, during their time together they'd also talked in depth about their past, especially Theodore, and she couldn't ignore the fact that after Anastasia Nott had died and her husband had broken, completely shutting down his son, Narcissa and Lucius had took him under their wings.

They'd helped him escape Voldemort's mark, and for that she was grateful.

So, she'd agreed to their invitation for dinner.

She'd been pleased to notice that the entire quarter where she and her friends had been kept prisoners had been restyled, moreover she appreciated Narcissa's efforts to set a comfortable vibe.

Dinner had been served in the gardens she personally took care of, hundreds of candles floated around the giant, wooden table.

The girl could tell how expensive everything around her really was, if there was a language she understood that was money, but the laid-back approach of the older witch was remarkable.

It was what a family dinner was supposed to look like.

"Draco told us you've just returned from a trip", Narcissa was chirping, her fork lazily playing with the food in her plate.

They were just at the appetizers, but most pleasantries had already been spoken.

"Yes, _aunt Cissa_ ", Theodore replied, politely. "Hermione and I have been traveling for two weeks. I look forward for the next time", he added, looking up at his sister.

Unfortunately, Hermione's attention was focused on Draco's daughter, Adhara, who was sitting in a baby's chair next to her father.

The blond was currently trying to convince her to eat her vegetables, but the child was stubbornly refusing, shaking her head.

It didn't take long for Hermione to spot exactly what she was staring at. "I don't blame her if she doesn't eat carrots when she sees chocolate cake", she pointed out. "She's been staring at it for ages".

Draco turned his head, looking at the cake sitting on the table behind Lucius' back firstly, and at the brunette right after.  
"You can eat cake after you eat half of your carrots", he said, severely.

Adhara pouted, making an excellent use of her best pleading eyes, but eventually accepted the compromise. Reluctantly, she eat her vegetables, observing Hermione as she did so.

"She's very shy with strangers", Draco explained with a chuckle. "She just needs to understand you're a nice person and she'll relax".

"Am I, now?", she retorted, furrowing her brows. "I think you should really give her that cake, Malfoy".

Hermione gestured at the baby, who was now trying to climb out of her chair to go and grab the candy herself.

Her father sighed, raising from his seat, returning two minutes later with a generous slice of cake in a small plate.

"WitchWeekly said that you're planning to expand your business in England, Ms. Granger…", Narcissa trailed off, obviously trying to get her guest of honour to talk.

As a matter of fact, Theodore had had weekly dinners at the Manor for half of his life, and the only period he'd stopped was when he'd been on the run from the Dark Lord and clearly wouldn't have been wise to show up where he lived.

"Hermione. My name's Hermione. And yes, I am. Hopefully, everything will be ready for October", the brunette replied. "I can't share many details now, but I'm positive that it will be huge success, Mrs. Malfoy".

Lucius tried to hide his chuckle behind a fake cough.

"Narcissa", the blonde witch said, sweetly. "Call me Narcissa. I was a very good friend of your mother".

Hermione smiled. "Theodore has told me that much".

"You remind me of her", the other continued. "But the eyes are your father's".

"He told me about our resemblance, too. Though I'm afraid I don't have an opinion on the subject, I have no idea what she looked like".

The thought slipped out of her lips before she could stop it, and she regretted it the instant she noticed her brother's frown.

She hadn't thought how he would feel about not showing her what their mother looked like, she had never asked him to do so, after all.

Only now she'd felt the sudden need to know, to look at the woman's face.

Slowly, Hermione was beginning to rationally accept her roots.

"I should have a couple of pictures in our family's albums", Narcissa casually mentioned. "We could look at them after dessert".

Before Theo could jump in and tell the woman to don't bother, Hermione sighed, deeply, then nodded her head.

"That would be lovely, _Narcissa_ ", the brunette said with a smile.

From there, things went downhill until dessert: the conversation was pleasant, ideas shared in a polite way even when very discording.

Who surprised Hermione the most was the Malfoy patriarch, though; she'd expected the man to be an old-fashioned, misogynist git, but he actually looked _proud_ of how passionate, informed and opinionated his wife was.

"The last educational degree is a joke", she was currently saying. "We all know what happened to the quality of Hogwarts' teaching the last time the Ministry tried to interfere with it".

"I believe you're talking about our fifth year, when Dolores Umbridge was appointed High Inquisitor", Hermione chuckled.

Despite all that had happened, her memories of that year, with the D.A.'s meetings and the furious studying for her O.W.L.'s, were some of the best she had.

Something inside her unexpectedly warmed up, and she turned her head, looking at her brother.

She couldn't express with words how grateful she was for the brand new, happy memories he was creating for her.

"I couldn't say which position she takes on the list of the three women I hate the most. And her competition are Voldemort's mother and Bellatrix Lestrange".

Years of psychoanalysis had given her strength to make jokes about what the dark witch had done to her, but the stillness that engulfed the other four adult people in the room made her mistake clear.

They hadn't put her torture past them like she'd painfully done, which really was kind of ironic.

"My sister Bella was… _deviant_. I'd challenge everyone not to turn into a monster after being sold to Rodolphus Lestrange, but that doesn't justify what she did to you and to many other innocent people", Narcissa said, quietly.

"We are extremely ashamed for what happened to you in our home, Ms. Granger", added Lucius, speaking directly to the brunette for the first time in the entire evening.

Hermione took a moment to observe the wizard: his time in prison had clearly sped up his aging, but he'd also lost the peculiar harshness of his facial expression.

She thought he was the perfect epitome of _freedom_.

"You… you don't need to apologize", she murmured. "The people who should be ashamed for what happened to me have been dead for quite some time now. Bellatrix, Voldemort, his mother, _Dumbledore_ …"

She'd kept the Headmaster's name for last on purpose; she'd always known that she couldn't be honest about her opinion on the old wizard when she was with her friends or with members of the Order, but it was a discussion she'd had a couple of times with Pansy, already, and it was a subject that needed more attention to her.

"Dumbledore?", asked Theodore, sending her a puzzled look.

"Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore, the mind between Tom Riddle's defeat, the only wizard who scared Voldemort… The man who left Harry with people who despised and abused him for ten years, the teacher who sent children to fight a war he'd allowed to develop. I don't think his greater good has really been good to any of us", she replied. "During our sixth year he was dying and he was aware of your task, yet the only way he offered help to a terrorized sixteen year old was by asking him to put his life in jeopardy by spying, a task even Professor Snape, who was a very skilled wizard, always struggled to accomplish after almost twenty years of practice", she added, looking directly into Draco's eyes.

The blond gulped, anxiously, then furrowed his brows. "How do you know that?"

She shrugged. "Harry was there, under his invisibility cloak. Dumbledore made him swear not to move or come out of his hiding place, he even petrified him".

Hermione stopped talking, giving both Draco, his parents and Theo time to metabolize what she was saying.

"He wanted to die. He knew I couldn't do it, but that Snape was coming to end his life. But if Potter hadn't been petrified…"

"That's my point. Besides, he decided to die while there were Death Eaters and _bloody_ Fenrir Greyback in the castle. That's _selfish_ where I come from".

Narcissa stood from her seat, gesturing her husband to follow her.

"I'll go grab those pictures, now", she announced, forcing a smile. "We'll give you some time to discuss this in privacy".

It was clear that who needed privacy were she and Lucius, but Hermione appreciated her effort.

"Thank you", she said.

When the couple left, Hermione briefly answered to her brother's questions about what had happened, both on the Astronomy Tower, after she'd admitted that Harry had shared his memory of the night with her, and on the Golden Trio's hunt for the Horcruxes.

Draco remained quiet for most of time, helping his child with a second slice of cake and brooding over the new information in his possession.

When the Malfoys returned with the photo-albums in their hands, conversation moved onto a different, yet similarly painful vibe.

They moved into one of the living rooms, the Lord of the Manor currently intent on preparing drinks while Draco played with his daughter.

Narcissa passed a couple of pictures to Theodore, suggesting he should be the one to decide which one to show Hermione first.

Hermione held her breath, something in her chest twitched painfully when she noticed just how desperate, longing and affectionate her brother's gaze was as it caressed his mother's face.

Theo rubbed his index finger on both eyes, discreetly, then made his choice and gave his twin the first picture.

Anastasia Nott was gracefully sitting on a blanket. From the roundness of her belly she had been pregnant for at least six months before the photo had been taken; she was looking at the horizon before turning to the camera and smiling, sweetly caressing her stomach.

"It's one of the few pictures with the three of us", he muttered, darkly.

Sadly, Hermione didn't register his words, she was too busy staring at the magical photo with a shocked expression on her face.

" _I know this woman_ ".

* * *

Theodore didn't know what to say.

Of all the reactions he'd expected from her, hell, he'd even included repulsion, she'd decided to have the only one he couldn't have possibly predicted.

"What did you say?", he asked, hoping it was just his ears playing a bad number on him.

"I know this woman. I met her once".

"It was after your second year at Hogwarts, wasn't it?", asked Narcissa.

Hermione's eye widened even more. Right now, she'd have been perfect for a Japanese comic book.

"How do you know that?"

The woman sighed, then threw a sad look at Theodore.

"I knew you were still alive", she admitted, sheepishly. "I didn't know who you were, but both Lucius and I were aware that they'd hidden you somewhere in London. I'm asking because, well, the summer before your third year she came to me and asked me to cover for her for a couple of hours. She never mentioned what she had to do, but when she returned she had a smile I hadn't seen on her face since she lost you. What you said just confirmed my suspicion".

"How could you say nothing?", Draco snapped, abruptly interrupting the magic tricks he'd been performing to entertain his daughter. "How could you let Theodore be alone? You've seen how devasted he was when he lost his mother, and you've seen how his father treated him after that".

The woman was taken aback by her only son's accusations but couldn't find in herself something sufficient to explain herself.

"Enough, Draco. Don't embarrass your mother", Lucius said. "Cantankerus made us take an Unbreakable Vow. We couldn't say a word even if we wanted to".

"Cantankerus died two years ago", his son retorted.

"I'm aware of when he died, Draco, he was two cells on the left from mine", the patriarch said, bitterly. "Like your mother already said, we didn't know about _Eloise_ 's whereabouts. What good we could have done by saying that his sister was alive but we had no idea who or where she was?"

"He has a point, Draco", Theodore added. "I'm the only one responsible for two of the years we missed, Hermione. If I hadn't burned all of Father's letters, maybe I would have find you sooner".

The brunette shook her head. "The past is in the past. And I don't blame you if you didn't want to read his letters".

She moved slightly closer to him on the couch, pointing her finger at the picture in her hands. Smiling wasn't as hard as she thought.

"Now, tell me more about her", she added.

The next thirty minutes went by looking at the remaining pictures in the albums; many portrayed Draco and Theodore as infants, playing together or with their mothers.

Both Malfoy parents shared stories about their childhoods, and Hermione added some of her personal experiences growing up in the muggle world.

Nobody said it out loud, but it was extremely clear that children were children, no matter the environment they grew up in.

The last picture had slipped onto the album by accident, and it was one of an almost four years old Draco, who was sleeping in his father's arms.

Hermione lifted the picture in the air, then looked at the Draco her age, who was sitting in one of the armchairs while holding Adhara in a similar fashion.

Something clicked in her mind.

"Stay put", she ordered, grabbing her telephone from her purse.

The witch took a couple of pictures of father and daughter. When she was satisfied with lights and angle, she carefully put the photo in Adhara's hands.

She made a couple more shots, then invited Lucius to position himself behind them. The older wizard's smile was almost invisible to un-trained eyes, but Hermione could clearly see in her display how the corners of his lips slightly curled up.

Narcissa let out an excited squeak, and her granddaughter popped her eyes open. She yawned, then looked at the picture which had been put in her hand.

"Daddy", she uttered, smiling at the picture and then at her father.

Then she turned her head so that her face was hiding in Draco's chest, and instantly returned to her sleep, leaving the remaining Malfoys in complete awe.

" _Oh, my dear Merlin!_ ", Narcissa gasped, covering her mouth with one hand.

"What's wrong?", Hermione asked, brows high on her forehead.

"Nothing's wrong", Draco chuckled, shaking his head. "She just said her first word. And it was _Daddy_ ", he grinned.

The way his eyes shined with emotion gave her a clue of just how proud he was feeling in that moment.

She smiled back but preferred not to intrude in such a private moment.

* * *

Once the moment had passed, Draco excused himself and escorted his daughter to her bed; when he returned to the living room, Narcissa was giving the photo-albums to the brunette, inviting her to keep them as long as she liked and make all the copies she fancied.

Lucius had returned to his silence, but the blond had to admit that his behaviour during dinner had touched perfection; not once he'd made the former Gryffindor uncomfortable, he had went as far as to ask her questions about muggle history and if he didn't know better Draco would have said that the gloomy patriarch even _liked_ the witch.

"We should be on our way", she was saying, politely, after thanking Narcissa for her hospitality once again, but she was interrupted by the noise coming from Theodore's trousers.

He unlocked the device with a simple touched of the display, then grimaced when he read the message whom he'd just received.

"I need to go", he sighed, hurrying towards the floo. "I'll call you tomorrow morning", he added, briefly staring at his sister before disappearing in a whirl of green flames.

No matter how low he kept his voice as he gave his destination, everyone could understand where he was headed: _Greengrass Manor_.

Lucius and Narcissa took their leave after wishing Hermione a good night of sleep, inviting her to join them again next week: it was a tradition for Theodore to have dinner with them every Friday evening, and that was their subtle way of officially welcoming the witch into their family.

Despite the afternoon she'd already spent in Narcissa's company, which she'd quite enjoyed, Hermione hadn't expected Draco's parents to be so genuinely nice in her regards. It was confusing.

Since Hermione used the floo in her attic only to exit her house and not the other way around, a choice her security expert had suggested, Draco offered to drive her home.

She could have used apparition, but she didn't mind spending a little more time with Draco.

"I could dis-apparate, you know", she murmured, eventually deciding not to take advantage of his kindness.

"I insist. Really, I enjoy a night drive and I really feel like celebrating right now, so it's not really a problem for me", he chuckled.

He didn't need to say more to convince her.

He walked a couple of steps ahead of her all the way back to Narcissa's gardens, but stopped before they could enter them, using his wand to open the shutter of what looked like a weird hybrid between a lovely wooden cottage and a muggle garage.

Her mouth fell open when she spotted what was inside of it.

It was a very expensive, black motorcycle.

She noticed he'd put an helmet in her hand only when he turned the engine on; he was a very tall man, so he had no problem in reaching the ground with both his feet while sitting on the tip of the leather-made bike's saddle.

"Are you coming?", he smirked.

He wasn't wearing a helmet, and once Hermione regained control of herself, she insisted on duplicating the one he'd given her before she got on the motorcycle.

They travelled half by road and half by sky, and she spent most of the trip engulfed in Draco's sweet scent.

The first time they'd left the ground the witch had started shivering, hugging his waist to warm herself up, so he'd stopped and given her the jacket he kept in the small trunk under the saddle.

Victoria Street was extremely silent when they reached her condo.

Draco parked his bike, set the appropriate theft-protection charms and escorted her to the main door, which was quickly opened by the concierge.

"Do you fancy a drink?", she asked, an ambiguous smile on her lips.

She was leaning on the door, with her body arched slightly on the right; she was still wearing his jacket, but she'd left it open.

His eyes trailed on her dress; it was far more modest than the others he'd seen her wearing, especially the one she'd sported at Potter's birthday party, but like every outfit she'd showed until that moment, it clung perfectly to the curves of her body, so maybe it was time he admitted she possessed a rather nice figure.

Draco fixed his eyes on hers, swallowing hardly.

"I would like an answer before tomorrow, Malfoy. These shoes are literally killing me, you know?", she added, returning his look with the same intensity.

The only coherent thought that flashed in the wizard's mind before he nodded and followed her to the lift, was that she could be the one killing him if she gave him those kind of _fuck-me-eyes_ again.

Once Hermione found the right key in her purse and opened the door, the couple settled in front of the fireplace in her living room, and sitting next to each other on the sofa, they opened the first bottle of Elf-wine.

"I can't believe you made my daughter talk", Draco said when the silence went from peaceful to unnerving.

And there it was again, _that_ smile; she'd always scoffed when witnessing women gushing over men just because they had children, but she couldn't ignore the sweetness in his expression whenever he mentioned his little girl.

That kind of devotion was fascinating, to say very the least.

"I did nothing", she retorted. "She did it on her own. _Because she loves you_ ".

"What makes you think that?", he asked.

He knew Adhara loved him, or at least he hoped so, because she was definitely the most precious thing he had in the world, but he was curious to hear her opinion on the matter.

Hermione Granger had the prettiest point of view on most things, after all.

"You've always been very contradictory in your behaviours, but the one thing I've always been sure of is that you value family over anything else. Watching you with your daughter, though…", she smiled. "That's on the next level".

He wasn't sure what to say, so he tried to hide the smile that spontaneously formed on his lips behind the glass of wine.

Seeing her like that, so much _softer_ than in many circumstances, was drastically increasing the urge to kiss her he'd been fighting for a while now.

Draco had been convinced that his _itch_ would have disappeared in the two weeks he hadn't seen her, but the opposite had happened.

The hundreds of pictures of their trip that the twins had been sharing on their Mirror profiles hadn't helped; Draco had looked at all of them, and his fascination for the witch had grown stronger.

It was like she was everyone (going to parties, drinking, dancing, pulling pranks), but at the same time she was nobody (a magical prodigy, the visionary behind the largest business company in both the wizarding and the muggle world, a war heroine by age seventeen, an irreducible bookworm).

In addition to that, there were also flashes of _someone else_ , of who he suspected was her bare true-self: it was the part he enjoyed the most.

"I'm happy for you and Theodore", he said after a while. "If someone deserved some time off, that was him".

"I wonder what happened at Greengrass Manor", she mused. "He looked concerned".

"Have you met your uncle, yet?", he asked, changing the subject.

"Nope, I didn't", she shook her head, then poured two more glasses of wine. "And I'm not sure I'm interested, to be honest. From what I've heard, he's not a very pleasant man. How could he be if he's the kind of guy who forces a marriage upon his daughters?".

"He's still better than his wife", Draco sneered. "That woman is not a snake, she's a full-grown _basilisk_ ".

She laughed at the metaphor, then moved a little closer, hastily sipping her wine. "You and Theo are very close, aren't you?"

Draco chuckled, then passed a hand through his blond hair. He wore it much longer than he used to when they were students, often in a man-bun, and it enhanced the sharp, adult features of his face, which looked manly and no longer pointy.

He was quite handsome, really, so Hermione simply stopped thinking.

On her way to the third glass of wine, the fifth if you consider the amount she'd drunk already during dinner, it didn't make sense. Besides, it was easier to discard her thoughts as a mere product of her self-imposed abstinence from sex after the fiasco with Terrence, her personal trainer.

Sex was an activity that, once she'd figured out the basics, the witch generally enjoyed; it wasn't as complicated as love, or relationships, but it still allowed her to feel a connection to someone, no matter how brief.

However, Hermione was really picky when it came down to decide who were the lucky men who could enjoy her graces.

Was she really considering doing _that_ with Malfoy? Maybe she was just _objectively_ impressed by his good looks, and his change of character had been a huge catalyst for her attention.

It wasn't like she was _attracted_ by him. ( _Right?_ )

"He's like a brother to me", he stated, seriously. "I know people always say this lightly, but it's true. He's been there in some of the worst moments of my life, and I for him. Same goes for the good memories".

She wasn't just attracted, she was _hypnotized_ ; a man in touch with his feelings really did some numbers on her.

Maybe it was because she hadn't really took care of her own feelings in a very long time, or maybe because she'd grown very attached to her brother in the past two months, and it warmed her heart to know he had someone else who cared so deeply about him, who had been doing a long time before she had her chance.

"You're a brother to him, too", she said, trying to control her voice to the best of her abilities, but her sentence came out like a low drawl; her body had entered its _flirting mode_ without her even noticing.

She was speaking the truth, though.

Theodore had talked a lot about his blond, sarcastic friend, and if Draco hadn't already convinced her that he was a changed man (she now had her doubts he'd ever been _that bad_ to begin with, _honestly_ ) through his words and behaviours, what her twin had said would have persuaded her to give him a chance.

"Probably more than I'll ever be a sister", she added, more quietly, then snatched the bottle from the cocktail table in front of the sofa and filled her glass once again.

Her hand stopped mid-air and the brunette raised her head, looking up at Draco, asking him silently if he wanted more wine.

"I think you're doing an amazing job", he offered, covering the hand that was holding the neck of the bottle with his own, squeezing it gently. "For as long as I could remember there were always two Theodore Nott. Theodore before his mother died and Theodore after she did. Now there's Theodore after he's found his sister, and he's the happiest I've seen him in a decade. That is quite the accomplishment, in my opinion".

He gently removed her hand from the bottle, then filled his glass and passed the other to the witch.

"It didn't go so well last time you were making toasts", she joked, referring to that time, the month before, when he'd gotten drunk and fell asleep in the middle of her party. They had even been sitting on the same sofa.

However, Draco and Hermione were alone, now.

Alone, and closer than they'd been last time: she could see all the shades of light blue and grey in the irises of his eyes, and she could _feel_ how pillow-soft his lips looked from such a near proximity.

She was inches from sitting on his lap, and she mentally frowned when she noticed that the thought wasn't as repulsive as it should have been.

"Practice makes perfect", he trailed off.

They finished their wine without further talking, then put the glasses back on the table.

"How was your trip?", Draco asked, keeping his nearness to the witch but clearing his throat so that his question didn't come out as a growl.

"It was amazing", she said with a dreamy voice, but then furrowed her eyebrows. "Are you coming tomorrow?"

She was talking about the Quidditch match she'd organized with Harry and Ron, which was scheduled for the following day in the Burrow's pitch. They'd promised to tell everything about their trip to their friends during the dinner which would have followed the match, so she wondered what reasoning was behind his question.  
 _  
Why did he care?_

"Yes, I am, actually. Wouldn't miss Gryffindor's Princess on a broom for all the gold of this world", he smirked, "Why did you ask? Afraid you'd miss me?"

Hermione took the time to really drink in his appearance, from the dishevelled look of his hair, passing for the spark of sheer amusement in his eyes, to the _oh-so-cute_ dimple in his cheek.

She could have _eaten_ him. "I'm afraid I might", she whispered, returning the smirk.

When she was younger, people would tell her she was a terrible liar, with all of her emotions written all over her face; with time and practice, Hermione had learnt to mask her feelings, but that didn't mean she couldn't return to her original innocence when she fancied doing so.

If her offer wasn't explicit enough by the way she was looking at him, her tongue slowly darting out of her mouth to lick her lower lip eventually gave her intentions away.

She hadn't felt so _reckless_ in a long time.

Besides from the adrenaline rush, the thrill of not knowing what Draco was going to do next sent a shiver down her spine.

* * *

"I'm afraid I might".

And there she was, biting her lower lip and scanning his soul with her _oh-so-tempting_ blue eyes; the change in colour had improved her appearance, but it was the way Hermione was looking at him that really sent him through the edge.

Over the last three years, Draco hadn't had much time for women and dates; Adhara had been his first priority since the very moment he'd landed his eyes on her pretty little face.

He'd offered dinner to a few ladies, had sex with a couple of them, but he'd lived each fling with a _borrowed-time_ mindset: he knew those women weren't going to last, no matter how beautiful, funny or clever they were, and the sex had been pressed by instincts that were physical rather than emotional, at least on his part.

The woman in front of him, _however_.

Not only she was an old, treasured _fantasy_ , but also someone he knew you couldn't shag and forget about it the following day.

She hadn't seemed opposed to one-offs, actually, but Draco was sure that it had to be her who didn't want to come back for more. It suited her character.

Hermione Granger was such a massive, unsolvable mystery; people thought they knew her, but he knew better.

If really there was someone in the world with a secret for every curl on her head, that had to be her.

Hermione Granger, Eloise Nott, Victoria Sallow.

She had at least one secret for every name she called herself, and he wasn't sure he knew all of them.

Whatever the name, or the _filter_ , she was made of beauty… and light, she smelled of honey and milk, with a hint of cocoa, and when she fixed her big, blue eyes on him, Draco always felt like she was _really_ looking at him, reading his soul like it was a new, inedited chapter of _Hogwarts: A History_.

He had a dry throat despite all the wine he'd been drinking.

It was one of those moments in his life where a single decision could change the entire course of his existence, but for the first time Draco didn't hesitate.

He kissed her.

Slowly he leaned in, closer, bringing his lips just a few centimeters from hers.

Neither of them stopped looking at the other in the eyes when Draco covered the remaining distance, but he shut down his eyelids when Hermione's teeth eagerly took a bite on his lower lip, forcing him to open his mouth and softly caressing his tongue with her own.

And then he completely gave in.

Draco hadn't desired something for himself in a very long time, and it only felt natural to put one hand on the back of her neck, the other resting on her hip, while he kept kissing the girl and pressing her petite frame closer to his body.

A soft moan escaped the witch's lips when his mouth stopped nibbling at her neck and he left a trail of wet kisses on her clavicles.

She did the only _rational_ thing and lifted one leg so that she could directly sit on his lap.

She was now in control of the _pressure_. Unconsciously, the witch rolled her hips, smiling contently when her move provoked just the reaction she had been looking for.

The wizard's hands started a meticulous exploration of her satin dress, tracing every edge where the fabric met her skin with painfully-slow _devotion_ , starting with her arms and rushing down her sides to finally approach her thighs.

Then he firmly grabbed her bum, squeezing it gently, and as he joined her in her groping, Draco's mouth crushed back on hers.

Hermione was just starting to remove his shirt, when a loud, unexpected knock came from her main door, forcing them both to freeze in their places.

The brunette stood up, shivering at the sudden cold when her body broke contact with the wizard's. "I wonder who that could be", she said, matter-of-factly.

The only thing giving away her turmoil was the blush on her cheek.

She pushed her skirt back down her legs, then rushed in the direction of the door with a sigh.

Draco stared as she _casually_ swayed her hips on her way to the adjacent room, then closed his eyes and tried to focus on the muffled sounds the unexpected guest started producing as soon as the door was open.

"Oh, good, you're awaken, 'Mione. I was at _The Lion's_ with a couple of friends and on my way home I thought I could drop by and say hello".

Ron Weasley's unmistakable voice reached the blond, who immediately sensed the ginger's drunken state from the way he'd drawled his words.

He was pissed off about the interruption, but he knew that his intervention could have made things even more awkward between the pair of old friends.

Draco knew the man had always held a torch for the brunette, but despite his personal, enormous dislike of the wizard, he didn't want to cause trouble to the girl.

"It's very late, Ron. I'll see you tomorrow for Quidditch", she was saying, and from her tone he couldn't understand if she was more annoyed or concerned about her friend's behaviour. "You should go home to your wife", she added, softly.

There wasn't the pain of a hurting lover in her voice.

For about a moment, Draco felt genuinely sorry for Weasley.

He wondered for how long he'd been in love with the witch, how much he'd struggled because of her obliviousness to his feelings.

Mentioning Lavender seemed to do the trick for her, because he rumbled a couple more words and then he could hear Hermione closing the door.

Draco didn't know what he was supposed to do next, but staying exactly where he was, waiting for her to approach him first and fighting the urge to kiss the gorgeous witch again seemed the most reasonable course of action.

Hermione returned to the living room, chin high and straight shoulders, but he could tell just how strongly she was fighting to appear normal.

"Is everything ok?", the blond asked before he could stop himself.

"Yeah, sure", she replied with a shrug; the mask on her face wavered but remained in place. "Nothing we should worry about just now".

"What _should_ we worry about, then?"

His distinctive smirk died on Draco's lips when she slowly, purposefully licked her lips and raised one of her toned legs, unfastening the ankle-strap that kept the sandal on and leaving the designer piece on the floor.

The witch repeated the process with her other shoe, then she approached the sofa he was sitting on.

Her hands travelled to her ears, she removed the diamond dangle-earrings and placed them on the cocktail table.

Hermione walked past the wizard, circumnavigating the sofa so that she could speak directly in his ear as she bent and positioned both her hands on his shoulders.

"I don't know about you, _Draco_ ", she whispered, articulating his given name like he'd been named after a _sin_ rather than a constellation. " _But I can't wait to be naked in my bed_ ".

Then she moved to the stairs without a glance back.

The wizard was trying to talk himself out of the primordial instinct of standing on his feet and join the girl in her chambers, knowing she'd have probably regretted her decision in the morning, when he heard her slowly unzip her dress.

Draco stopped thinking and just, well, _acted_ : he ran after the witch and followed her.

* * *

On Saturday, Hermione woke up because of the sun.

In the impetuosity of the _circumstances_ that had brought her to bed, the brunette had forgotten to draw her curtains and now the light was simply too strong for her to keep ignoring it.

She sat up on the mattress, but kept her eyes closed.

She didn't need to open them to know that Draco was gone.

She'd anticipated _guilt_ and she was looking forward for a chance to repeat the experience, instead: however, the witch was no fool, she knew that whatever was going on between her and Draco wasn't really meant to last.

He was her brother's best friend, they shared a difficult past and he had a daughter; all elements that labelled their flirting as just that. Flirting.

But she was fine with that. Hermione could do some light-hearted romance: the fact it was Draco Malfoy, of all people, who was giving that to her, was fascinating.

She urged one of her hands under her pillow, looking for the nightgown she hadn't wore the previous night.

Once her low parts weren't the only things covered, at least partially, she got out of her bed and headed downstairs, smirking at the pieces of clothing scattered around.

Pansy would have killed her if she saw the way her latest creation had been mistreated, abandoned for a fortnight on the cold marble.

She retrieved her phone from the purse she'd left on the sofa, then furrowed her brows at the display: three missed calls, two from Harry and one from Theodore, and a group chat for the upcoming Quidditch match with more than two hundred unread messages.

She was making her morning coffee when she spotted a name she wasn't expecting at the end of her list of notifications.

 _'Good morning, beautiful.  
I had to go home and bring Adhara to school.  
You were asleep and I have no idea  
if you're a morning person or not (…)'_

The rest of the message made her laugh: he'd replaced the original ' _Can't wait to see you tomorrow_ ' with a colder, more formal greeting; funnily enough, Draco had forgotten to erase the first version of his text.

"I'll see you tomorrow, Malfoy", she hummed to herself before sitting at her kitchen table with a mug of hot coffee and planning the rest of her day.

Flashes of last night kept her company all Saturday.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Good evening, cupcakes!  
A little later than anticipated, here's  
chapter 11th for you to read. So far,  
it's one of my absolute favorites, and  
it was one of the funniest to write.  
As I told you, the Dramione starts  
to kick in. _Eventually_ , you'd probably say. :)  
I guess some of you were expecting a  
detailed smut scene with multiple orgasms  
and a lot of name-screaming ( _basic Dramione_  
 _sex_ , pretty much, lol), but I have a very good  
reason for not doing so: I've started writing in  
this language no longer than six months ago,  
and though I have my fair share of experience  
in my native language, Italian, I'm still  
learning how to describe certain things; I'm  
working really hard to give you all a lemon  
I'm proud of, so I guess you'll have to be patient  
for a little more ( **spoiler** : a smut scene comes  
in chapter 13rd). Also, call me a romantic if you'd  
like, but it was their first time together and I kind  
of felt like they deserved some privacy just this once.  
I hope you enjoyed the update, and I'll see at some  
point during next week! Have a lovely day. :))

p.s. let me know (in a review or on tumblr, you can  
find me under the name **godisawitchfic** ) what sub-plots  
you'd like to explore more in detail, I'm working on  
future chapters and I'd really appreciated your input  
(VOTE IN THE POLL I CREATED, PLEASE!)


	12. TRUFFLE BUTTER

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **PART TWO:**  
 ** _"_** ** _NO REASON TO STAY IS A REASON TO GO"_**

* * *

 **12.**

 **TRUFFLE BUTTER**

.

" _ _I ain't never need a man, to take care of me  
yo, I'm in that big boy, bitches can't rent this  
I floss everyday, but I ain't a dentist_  
 _your whole style and approach, I_ invented  
 _& I ain't takin' that back, 'cause I meant it__"

* * *

 ** _The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, August 18_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

Weather in Devon was a tricky little thing, especially during summer.

One minute the sun was shining and birds singing, the next one it was raining, thunders were falling from the sky and temperatures dropping low.

The day scheduled for the Quidditch match wasn't different.

Hermione took an annoyed peek out of the window, then narrowed her eyes over the St. Honoré cake Molly had served for dessert.

The old Weasley matriarch rarely challenged herself with muggle pastry and its time-consuming procedures, but today it was a special occasion: for the first time in years, the empty chair she usually put on one corner of the table for Sunday family meals was occupied by its rightful owner.

If she said she was happy things hadn't figure out romantically between her youngest son and the brunette witch, she would have been lying.

Hermione was one beautiful, clever woman, any wizard should have considered himself lucky by only standing next to her and Molly had always hoped that wizard would have been Ronald.

However, five years had passed since she'd lastly seen the witch in her home, and over time she'd eventually learnt how to accept and appreciate Lavender as her daughter-in-law, despite her initial dislike of the girl.

The strawberry blonde journalist was a rather nice person once you did get to know her and, most of all, she loved her husband very dearly. That was really all Molly had needed to witness to give her approval to the marriage.

"Perhaps we should reschedule", Hermione said, throwing another glance out of the kitchen's window. "The weather is terrible".

"I played with Dementors, the possibility of rain won't spoil our afternoon", Harry laughed, helping himself with a second slice of cake, then turned his head to his girlfriend, who'd been quietly sitting next to him for the entire lunch. "R' you sure you don't want to join?"

"Absolutely, _love_ ", Pansy replied with a fake, sweet tone. "I suck at Quidditch and I don't think the girls would ever forgive me if I declare men's dominance over brooms by losing the game".

Despite Blaise's insistence, Ginny had been determined to go through with her idea of gender-based teams. Witches against wizards.

After almost four years of smashing career as the Holyhead Harpies' Seeker, the only daughter of Arthur and Molly was ready to prove, at least to her own family, that _talent_ had nothing to do with someone's _genitalia_.

The Quidditch world was less biased and prejudiced than its muggle equivalents, but she still burned with outrage anytime someone tried to make her feel like she was worth _less_ than male players.

"You made the right call", the ginger-haired chirped. "I hope our Hermione here knows what she's doing".

Before Hermione could reply and shamelessly torment her friend for not believing in her abilities, Ginny stood and placed the palm of her hands on the wooden table.

"I'm terribly sorry to interrupt our gathering, but we were supposed to be on the Quidditch pitch fifteen minutes ago", she announced, then put her hand on one of Blaise's shoulders.

The man had been sitting next to her, and though nobody had been unkind to her boyfriend, nobody in her family, with the only exception of George, had really tried to welcome the dark-skinned wizard into the family.

Ginny understood that it could be difficult for someone as old as her parents to trust the boy who'd tormented a couple of his children during his younger years, but she was quickly growing annoyed by the coldness they were reserving to him.

He'd spent most of the lunch politely nodding to what the others were speaking about but talked mostly to the people he was already acquainted with.

Now Blaise had stopped pretending he was interested in the conversation and he was using his telephone underneath the table.

She really couldn't blame him for it.

His brows were furrowed as he furiously typed a text message. Once it had been sent, he discreetly passed the device to her.

' _Oi, mate. Sorry to bother you, but you guys are late and it's almost raining. We are currently seeking shelter near an old barn. Hurry up_ '.

Ginny informed the rest of her family of the current situation, then lead the group of people out of her childhood home.

The ginger was Captain of the women's team and played as Seeker. Hermione Granger, Angelina Weasley (néé Johnson) and Cho Chang would have filled the Chaser positions, while Tracey Goyle (néé Davis) and Daphne Greengrass would have played as Beaters. Cassandra Zabini was their Keeper.

On the opposite team, Keeper Ron Weasley and Seeker Harry Potter were Co-Captains. Chasers were Draco, Blaise and Theodore. Gregory Goyle and George Weasley played as Beaters.

The girls had an even number of players from three different Hogwarts Houses, while the boys were divided into Gryffindors and Slytherins.

The match was going to be like nothing most of them had never played before: the males had a longer, brighter history in playing the game, but two of the females played it professionally, _and_ in the national team.

Moreover, Ginny was used to lead a team composed only by women, while Harry and Ron had always played on mixed teams.

They'd arranged two small changing rooms with magic, and after everyone was ready the fourteen players walked to the middle of the pitch and faced each other.

Neville Longbottom, who had been asked to arbitrate the match, checked on both teams thoroughly before he grabbed the whistle hanging from his neck and brought it to his lips.

He stopped last minute, narrowing his eyes at Hermione.

"Aren't you supposed to have a broom?", he asked, double-checking to make sure it hadn't simply been hidden from his sight.

"Oh, you're right! Thanks, Neville", the witch squeaked, fumbling with the gold bracelet on her left wrist.

She cautiously removed one of its pendants, then took it closer to her mouth and blew on it.

Hermione hadn't been lying to her brother when she had claimed to be possessing the best broom on the market. She may have gifted Harry the _fastest_ , but such speed came with limits she didn't want to suffer.

The crowd of players gathered around the exquisite piece of wood, ignoring Neville's call to go back to order.

Eventually, he stopped their drooling with a forceful blow in his whistle. " _Venus Peaches_ versus _Mars Ants_? Really, guys? You couldn't come out with anything better?", he asked. "All right, reach your positions and we shall be able to start. This match will be played following the English statute for Quidditch regulation. I'm not against sending players out if they don't play by the rules, so you should consider yourselves warned".

During the ritual shaking of hands between the players that opened every respectable Quidditch match, Hermione found herself directly facing Draco for the first time since they'd slept together.

Two days had passed, but her body remembered his touch too vividly not to shiver when he grabbed her hand and casually caressed her fingers with his.

Before she could think of anything _smart_ , _fun_ or _sexy_ to say, her mouth opened, and words started rolling off her tongue. "Be careful, Malfoy, you don't want to embarrass yourself in front of your daughter", she said, pointing her eyes on the improvised stands where Adhara was sandwiched between her two favourite aunties, Pansy and Astoria.

"She was supposed to stay with my mother", he murmured, quietly, ignoring Goyle who was waiting behind him for his turn to shake her hand. "But when she saw the broom she asked me if she could see me play. Since Pansy didn't mind looking after her, I thought I could bring her with me, after all", he shrugged.

"She'll love it here", the witch replied, softly. "If there's a good place for children, that's the Burrow. Not far from here there's an amazing little lake where you can see fairies at sunset if you're lucky…", she trailed off, then nervously looked over his shoulder at Goyle.

"I'd like to see that, it looks _promising_ ", he mused, and with that he left.

It took her shaking hands with five more people, the beginning of the match and twenty minutes of self-scolding to push any thoughts of Malfoy in the back of her mind and focus on the game, but when she managed to do so… well, _Venus Peaches_ raised hell.

* * *

Two and a half hours and 590 points scored later, the game ended.

"…Ginny Weasley steals the snitch under Harry Potter's nose and the Venus Peaches win three hundred and ten to two hundred and eighty! Congratulations, ladies!", shouted Luna Lovegood, who had been doing the live report on the match.

For the occasion she'd been sporting a hat very similar to the one she used to wear when cheering for Gryffindor matches, but instead of a lion there was a big _vagina_ made of fabric hanging on top of her head.

"So, she really is crazy?", asked Theodore, coming up from behind his sister and scaring the hell out of her.

Hermione was lucky her broom was designed for keeping her steady no matter what, with her improbable death as the only way to break the deal, otherwise she would have jumped off and fell for approximately fifty feet.

"She's a unique piece of art, _little_ brother", she reprimanded.

The blonde Ravenclaw was one of her oldest, dearest friends, one of the very few she'd keep contacts with during her time in Australia and the only one who'd visited.

" _Never be scared by a woman who expresses herself, that's where you catch the beauty_ ", he said in a dreamy voice. "Mother used to say that".

"That's a nice thought", she replied. "She seemed a very nice person when I met her", she added, in a softer tone.

Theodore had talked about their mother long enough for her to really understand how deeply he'd been attached to her, how sad he still was because of her death.

She wished she could do something ( _anything_ ) to ease his pain.

"Do you happen to care to tell me how that happened?"

"Sure", she nodded. "Let's go back to the ground before we do that, uh?"

Despite she'd overcome her fear of heights (and flying), she still didn't like behind suspended mid-air. She still dreaded the… _stillness_.

The siblings brought their feet back on the grass, then moved a couple of feet away from the rest of players so that they could talk privately.

"I met her the summer before our third year", Hermione started, uncertain.

Her memories of her meeting with Anastasia Nott were not too clear, because at that time she hadn't paid too much attention to their brief exchange of words, but she knew that Theodore needed to hear that story.

"It wasn't long before she died, then", her twin supplied. "I told my parents that muggle-born students had been petrified that year. Now that I think about it, it makes sense for Father not to say any of his Pureblood bullshit. He knew it had happened to his daughter, too".

" _Like he cared_ ", the witch scoffed. "Anyway, I met her in the flower shop near the house I grew up in. She just said _Alstroemeria_ was my flower and bought me a bouquet, then she wished me a happy life. That's about it. I just happen to remember her face because back in the day I was mesmerized by her beauty. And her kindness, too. I can't believe she was married with a Death Eater. Perhaps she'd been forced into the relationship by her parents. Or her brother, he's trying to do the same to Daphne, after all".

"You haven't read _his_ letters, have you? He _did_ care about you", the dark-haired wizard inquired with a smirk. "Our parents loved each other a great deal, Hermione. He wasn't actually that bad of a father before she was gone".

"What letters?", she frowned. "Oh, _those_ letters. You're right, I haven't read them. I have absolutely no idea of what could be in them, now, have I? What could _that man_ have written that I would be interested in reading?"

"I'm not his biggest supporter and I don't want to pressure you into doing anything, but after two years of literally burning his words, I've read a single letter and it has changed my life for the better", Theodore said in his calmer tone. "Besides, he really is dead only after you've heard his final words. Trust me, I know something about that".

"I'll think about it", she conceded with a smile.

Before Hermione could add anything else, two cold, small hands covered her eyes as someone hugged her from behind.

" _Congratulations on your triumph, my Caesar_ ".

Pansy pecked one of her cheeks, then briefly hugged Theo before speaking directly to him. "Would you mind if I steal her from a second?", she asked, pointing her index finger at the brunette. "I need to talk to your sister".

The former Slytherin gave her a puzzled look, but nodded his head and returned to his teammates, leaving the two witches on their own.

"How you know I actually want to talk to you, Pansy?"

"I don't", she cut her off with a flippant wave of her hand. "But I do need to talk to you. I won't let things being this awkward between us any longer if I can _man up_ and do something about it. I know I stepped over my boundaries when I told the others about the Grangers, but to try to understand my position for a second".

"There's no need for me to do that, not when I know that you shouldn't have. I thought it was clear that some of the things you know about me and my past were supposed to stay confidential. They didn't. End of the story".

"And then what?", Pansy snapped. "End of _us_?"

Hermione was ready to turn on her heels and return to the other girls, but something in her friend's bitter tone froze her on spot.

Apparently, Pansy wanted to talk things through this time.

It wasn't like their previous arguments. She really was afraid of losing her.

On her part, Hermione couldn't imagine a life in which her dark-haired friend wasn't included: she was too important.

Pansy had been her anchor for longer than she cared to admit, there was no way she could allow their friendship to fall apart.

"That's not what I meant", she said, softly. "You know I'll always be there for you, it's not something that would change over one argument. Just… I was still a bit mad at you".

"I'm really sorry, Hermione. I shouldn't have told Theodore or the others about your parents, but I've been friends with those three since we were four and we have never kept many secrets from each other. Besides, I would have never told them if I thought it could do you any harm, I swear".

"Just… let Theo grow some balls and ask me what he wants to know. He knows his way with words when he wants to, the sharpness of his logic is one the things I love the most about him. He should stop treating me like I'm made of glass, or I'm going to disappear from his life. I won't".

Pansy smiled. She'd wondered when her friend would have said something quite similar to this; she knew her too well to ignore the fact she really was committed to building a strong, lasting relationship with her twin.

Maybe she wasn't in the best place with her _muggle_ family, but she had found a _home_ in her brother. She wasn't going anywhere.

"He'll come around soon enough", Pansy hushed her friend. "Good game, by the way. I didn't know you became _this_ good".

"Yeah, well, _I like to win_ ", Hermione shrugged. "It's a desire that runs deep and glorious in my Gryffindor soul".

"Umh, and apparently you like to look good while you do so, too", she scoffed, eyeing her friend up and down.

It wasn't quite like her to be so put together for a simple Quidditch match; to the untrained eye, Hermione looked just like the rest of her teammates: sweaty and tired, with a baggy uniform hiding most of her body.

Pansy knew better: the front zip gently pushed down to show just enough cleavage to capture an interested eye, the messy bun her hair was tied up in that seemed anything but _casual_ , the subtle way the highlighter on her cheeks made her complexion look ten times healthier. " _Who is he?_ ", she asked.

"Who is he? _You tell me_ , I have no idea what you're talking about", Hermione said with a frown. "Are you feeling all good?"

"Yeah, you have no idea", her laughter came out louder than she'd anticipated, and Pansy noticed a couple of people turning their heads in their direction, intrigued by her sudden outburst. She lowered her voice. "I'm asking who it is that you shagged recently".

"I still don't know what you're talking about. I did nothing of the sorts".

"We both know you're not vain enough to put all this effort in getting ready for playing Quidditch", the former Slytherin smirked.

"Maybe it's your fashion tyranny that has finally rubbed off on me", Hermione reprimanded, doing her best to hide what was going on in her mind but betraying herself when her eyes started scanning the pitch.

"Merlin, he's _here_! Who is he?", she repeated.

"Fine", Hermione conceded, rolling her eyes. "I did _something_ with _someone_ the other night, but that's all I will share with you for now. Your _Caesar_ has a _triumph_ to celebrate, after all", she added, mocking her stupidly reverential pickup line from not long before.

"And dinner with me. Tomorrow at 7?", she asked with pleading eyes, looking for a confirmation of their reconciliation.

They hadn't really talked about anything personal since the night the brunette had stormed off of Blaise's loft; at first, after realizing her mistake, she'd decided to give Hermione a couple of days to cool off, sticking to business and neutral topics, like the organization of Harry's birthday party, but then she'd left on her trip with her brother and Pansy had found herself terribly missing her best friend.

"I'll bring the wine", Hermione nodded.

The dark-haired witch almost jumped into her arms, restraining herself enough to turn her attack into a civilized hug. She squeezed tighter the girl in her embrace before releasing her much shorter frame from her grip.

"O.M.G. Go put some heels on, _doll_ ", she chastised with mocking tone.

"When you go buy yourself a pair of breasts, _Cordelia_ ".

Now sure that their weird, unexplainable, sometimes mean- _ish_ relationship was back on track, the two witches linked arms with each other and returned to the rest of their friends.

* * *

What was supposed to be a small refreshment for the tired, hungry players, had easily turned into a party once dinner was over.

A table long enough to fit fourteen players and eight more people had been set up under a gazebo, a couple of spells were casted so that their dining area was rainproof even though rain hadn't show up for the whole afternoon in the end.

Then Arthur offered a toast from a special bottle of FireWhisky he'd been reserving for a special occasion and soon the quiet dinner was a party.

Around ten o'clock, Lucius and Narcissa showed up, worried about Draco and Adhara's absences at dinner.

He'd simply forgot to notice them, but seeing his parents scolding him like he was a thirteen-year-old was very amusing for the Gryffindors who had the luck to assist ( _and especially Ron_ ).

The Malfoys insisted such a chaotic party wasn't the right place for their granddaughter and told Draco they'd have seen him at home the next day but surprised everybody when they accepted Mr. and Mrs. Weasley's invitation to join them in their home to talk over a couple of drinks.

The two families were historical enemies, and both the proposition and the acceptation of it came from the wives and not the husbands, but it was _progress_ nonetheless.

If their children could spend time together and have fun, why couldn't they?

Maybe it was only right to leave the past in the past, and with the way Lucius and Narcissa had been ostracized by almost all their friends, maybe it was time to make new, better ones.

"Thank you for having us in your home, Molly", Narcissa politely said when she took her seat at the Weasley's kitchen table.

Before the war, the blonde witch would have frowned and made a comment about the fact they did not have a room dedicated to receiving guests in her eccentric home, which was rather odd for a Pureblood family.

Now, she'd finally reached the conclusion that's it's the _home_ you provide your children with your attentions, not the physical _house_ holding their belongings that really makes a difference: on that front, she and her husband could learn an awful lot from Molly and Arthur Weasley.

She kicked Lucius under the table when she noticed his gaze was fixed on the sink in front of him, where the enchanted dishes and pans were cleaning themselves up in mid-air.

"It's not a problem, dear", the red-haired witch stated with a small smile that deepened once her eyes focused on Adhara's small figure. The child was sitting in her grandfather's arms, playing with the tufts of silky, pale-blond hair left free from his low ponytail, and occasionally let out subtle yawns. "Would you like some hot milk and chocolate biscuits, sweetheart?"

After the lovely dinner she'd improvised for the small party at the Quidditch pitch, which, from the noises that were climbing the hill and reaching the inside of the house, apparently had just became _wilder_ , Adhara had realized that anything to eat that came from the nice lady with the red hair was very good.

She stopped pulling her grandpa's hair, then raised her big, sky-blue eyes, which she'd inherited from Narcissa, on him and pouted.

"I believe she'd love the biscuits", his wife intervened when he got stuck in looking at his granddaughter.

She just looked so beautiful, small and fragile in his arms, and he remembered when similar situations had occurred, but with Draco in Adhara's place.

Five years after the end of the war, Lucius Malfoy was a changed man: his years in Azkaban had given him time to fully metabolize thoughts and ideas he'd already started harbouring before the Dark Lord's demise, but it was having his family around him that everyday convinced him he'd made the right choice.

Perhaps a little too late, though, because if his marriage had come out of Voldemort's second rising stronger than ever, and he was building an amazing relationship with Adhara, whom he adored, Draco was still very wary in his presence, and determined to find a reason to definitely say goodbye to him: he'd imagined it would have been difficult to put the pieces back together, but he hadn't anticipated his only son could be so _indifferent_ to his return.

The only time he'd asked to speak directly with him since his return had been to tell him he had a granddaughter, that she was a Halfblood and that if he had a problem with that he could say farewell to his only heir. Without even waiting for a reply, he'd left his office and never said a word on the matter again, but he knew that Draco was still keeping him under strict observation.

His child didn't trust him. Not that he could really blame him for it.

"Tell me, Arthur, how are things in the Ministry nowadays?", Lucius said the first thing he could think about when the heavy, awkward silence that had fell upon the kitchen after Mrs. Weasley had served her treats to Adhara, then realized that perhaps it wasn't the best topic to bring up.

The Ministry, and politics in general, were an argument that most people carefully avoided lately, and Lucius reminded himself to keep his opinions as neutral as possible. He was still under probation.

"And why would I know that?", the ginger-haired wizard replied with a smirk, then filled four glasses with a home-made, alcoholic liquor that had been a secret recipe of his wife's family for centuries. The sweet aroma of raspberries filled the room. "I retired two years ago, that place has become a _joke_ ".

Both Malfoys were clearly surprised, while Molly rolled her eyes: she heard that kind of speech at least once a day. Arthur wasn't passionate about many things, mostly his family and muggle objects, but when he was he could resemble a ferocious activist. "It's not different from what happened the first time", she said, dismissively.

"That's my point, _wifey_ ", he frowned. "I lost my son, and… _nothing changed?_ There's a word that describes the situation better than _joke_?"

Molly jerked on her seat, suddenly uncomfortable. "What about _tragedy_ , uh?"

"I'm very sorry for what happened to your son. Children should have never got involved in all that… _misery_ ", Narcissa chimed in, quietly. She really wanted to express her condolences to the couple, but she didn't know if she was ready to say the words out loud. "I'm ashamed for the role my family has played in wizarding history up until now. But I can promise you that it will never happen again".

Lucius stiffened on the chair next to her, but nodded his approval.

The blonde woman smiled at her husband. She knew how hard it was for him to admit his mistakes and make amends, especially with someone he'd been raised to think of as inferior and worthless.

He really was changed. Otherwise, no matter how much she loved him with every inch of her body, she would have never welcomed him back in their house. Or her bed.

"I know you are not _evil_ , Ms. Malfoy", Arthur huffed. "I've been to your hearing and I've talked to Harry about what you did in the woods. Moreover, I've read his book. I probably would have lost my other six children if it wasn't for you".

"Call me Narcissa, please", the witch replied. "You too, Molly. I really don't see how being formal could make this conversation easier to bear. I can't imagine what it would have felt like to lose Draco. I certainly wouldn't have had that little sunshine", she added, trying to ease the tension, pointing one long finger at her granddaughter, who was just now finishing her biscuits.

"Thank you, Mrs. Molly", she beamed when she felt four different pair of eyes focused on her, .

Since speaking her first word two days before, Adhara now had started blurting out complete sentences from time to time.

The muggle paediatrician Draco had taken her to had said they had nothing to worry about: the baby had taken her time to start talking, but that didn't mean she hadn't listened to the conversations around her.

It was very likely that by the end of winter she would have been a couple of steps above the average talking abilities for a child her age.

Not knowing if she was going to have magic to assist her during her life, both Draco and his parents had been pleased to hear that she was blessed with a talented mind, at least.

"I hope you'll never come to feel that", Molly said after a while, placing a hand on the other woman's arm. "She really is a little sunshine, though. A wonderful, wonderful child. I wish I could fill this house with grandchildren, but four of my children are married and the only one with a daughter, Bill, lives in France and doesn't visit often because of his job".

"I'm sure the others will give us the same joy, sooner or later. Ginny and Percy are in long-term relationships too, from what I recall", Arthur mused, a small smile plastered on his lips.

It was a topic they discussed just as much as his opinion about the Ministry, yet he still hadn't managed to understand why Molly was so obsessed with grandchildren.

"She's dating the young Mr. Zabini, isn't she?", Lucius asked, helping Adhara positioning herself more comfortably. He was sure she'd have fallen asleep any minute now.

"Yes, she is", Molly answered with uncertain tone. "At first, I was a little surprised, not to mention confused, but I have to admit that he seems a nice boy. His manners are impressive, too".

"Blaise is a clever one. When Lucius and Draco were… _away_ , Malfoy Industries would have probably collapsed if it wasn't for him. If he gives you his word, he goes through with it, which I think it's a rather rare and remarkable quality nowadays".

"He looks very serious about our Ginny", Arthur supplied.

"Oh, but _he is_ ", Narcissa chuckled. "From what I know from Draco, he's always had a special fascination with your daughter. If they don't end up living happily ever after, it's going to be because they are not compatible, though they look like they are, and not because Blaise hasn't put enough efforts in their relationship".

Perhaps her defence of her son's friend had been way too severe, but she knew that the dark-skinned wizard hadn't been exactly welcomed with open arms by the Weasley clan, and if there was something she could do to change that, she would have done it.

Narcissa Malfoy owed Blaise at least that much, after all the help he'd given her just because she was Draco's mother. Just like it had happened with Theo, she'd started to think of him, if not as another child, at least as a really beloved, spoiled nephew.

"I can see Ginevra spending the rest of her life with him", Molly confessed. "After you observe them for a while it's pretty obvious that they make each other happy. Perhaps we should invite them to dinner, just the two of them, one of these days".

It was Molly's turn to blush for shame, even though the topic was less extreme; the blonde witch's hint at the cold shoulder they'd given to Blaise was rather obvious.

Meanwhile, Lucius was smirking proudly at his wife's cunning personality. "I like Blaise. He's always been a good friend for Draco, and Merlin knows how important his friends have been in keeping him _sane_ ", he mused.

Adhara shifted on his arms, then placed her chubby little hands on the wooden table, in an odd resemblance of a business woman during a meeting that had the adults fighting themselves to hold out their laughter.

"Daddy likes uncle Blaise!", she crooned, with a big smile on her face that allowed the missing tooth in the upper, central section of her mouth to be exposed.

"We know, darling", Narcissa smiled sweetly. "Your daddy likes all his friends".

"There's aunt Pansy, uncle Teddy, Daf e Tori, Greg…", she listed, counting the people on her hand to make sure she hadn't forgotten someone; it looked like a small actress who'd rehearsed her part, and that reminded both her grandparents of something they wished to discuss with Draco: Adhara needed to spend more time with people her age.

" _Oh_ , and then there's E'ione. _Daddy likes her a lot!_ ", the toddler added, clapping her hands excitedly.

She liked Ms. E'ione too.

They could no longer hold down the chuckles, and when they recovered Arthur offered a second serving of FireWhisky.

Lucius and Narcissa were tempted to accept, it was a long time since they'd spent an evening with the company of another wizarding couple, someone they could really relate to while having a conversation; as much as they loved their son's friends, they missed having friends their age, even though Arthur and Molly weren't the first people they'd thought about when they'd discussed the topic.

Eventually, they shook their head and pointed their eyes at Adhara, who wasn't used to being awake at this hour of night and now was displaying the first signs of collapse.

"We'll bring her home, now", Lucius announced. "She has a very precise sleeping routine, and she can become rather... _grumpy_ when she doesn't follow it".

"But Daddy said he would let me see the fairies!", the baby prompted, opening her eyes and pretending she wasn't falling asleep.

"The fairies are sleeping now, sweetheart", Molly intervened with the sweet tone she reserved to her granddaughter, the little Victorie, who was born two years before, ironically enough on the second of May. "But you can come back at any time with your grandma' and I promise there will be candies".

The Weasley matriarch's offer seemed generous enough to obtain Adhara's approval. She stopped struggling for release in Lucius arms, and finally closed her eyes and gave up to sleep after a soft " _Goodnight_ " whispered to nobody in particular.

Five minutes later Lucius and Narcissa exited the Burrow and apparated back to the sitting room of their Manor.

* * *

"I still can't believe you pulled off a _Porskoff_ _Ploy_ like that! I played as Chaser for half of my life and I could never do that!", Ginny was complaining, violently shaking her Butterbeer in Hermione's face.

They had withdrawn from the improvised dancefloor, where most people were still dancing. Mirror had proved rather handy in inviting more people to join the party, and now there were enough people to fill at least a quarter of the Quidditch pitch.

Mostly wizards and witches from their year at Hogwarts.

The two women were sitting on the grass, already too tipsy to care about their clothing being ruined.

Luna and Theodore had left the group after the blonde had boldly invited him to dance, but Astoria, Neville and Goyle's wife, Tracey, had remained.

Harry and Pansy had disappeared half an hour before, and many of them had started to understand just _what_ they could be currently up to somewhere nearby.

Draco and Blaise had spent the last hour attending the small bar that had been improvised with the alcohol brought by the people who had been invited last minute.

Seamus had arrived with three barrels of the Butterbeer he personally brewed following an ancient Irish recipe he'd inherited from his great-grandfather, which had the peculiarity of being stronger than the average Butterbeer, and many bottles of muggle liquors; however, the wizard had refused to serve drinks first-hand, announcing there was a reason he'd closed his pub earlier that night, sending his clients home.

He was there to _party_.

Somewhere in the crowd of dancing people, he was currently begging Neville and Dean to escort him to muggle London to get… well, _pot_.

Luckily, that wasn't necessary, because Longbottom supplied him with his latest creation, an hybrid between muggle weed and a magical plant previously never studied, which nullified the bad effects of the former on human brains; it didn't make a big difference for wizards, as they didn't suffer from the effect, but hopefully he'd have been able to introduce the variety with muggles without them knowing about the modification ( _aka_ , he needed to make the magic undetectable by science, which was quite the challenge).

"That's because it's a move that you accomplish with either time or luck, it's really difficult for the players to occupy the right positions in the right moment without the opponents noticing before it's too late", Hermione said, in a lecturing tone, to her ginger friend.

Then she left the group, heading towards the bar.

Currently, the curly witch wasn't wasted enough to bear a party of those proportions: Hermione was a very reserved person with high levels of social anxiety, such a big gathering of people she didn't really know, or worst, disliked, wasn't obviously her favourite cup of tea.

However, she felt like her presence was required for a bit longer; if alcohol was going to give her the help and strength she needed, she was going to just drink it.

She finally reached the bar, where Draco and Blaise were still behind the counter made of transfigured Quidditch gear, but instead of serving drinks they now had glasses on their own hands and were engaged in conversation with four of their 'missing' friends: Luna and Theodore, who'd apparently took a break from dancing, and Harry and Pansy, who had just returned from their private _rendezvous_.

Instead of asking one of the wizards for the Tequila she wanted, Hermione walked to the back of the counter, then quickly scammed through the bottles to find the one she was looking for, grabbed three shot glasses and helped herself with her drink( _s_ ).

She downed all three before she acknowledged anybody's presence.

With the first shot, her throat burned just as much as she'd anticipated and she nearly chocked on the salt.

The brunette recovered quickly and winked at Pansy and Harry's untidy clothes.

After the second shot, her eyes met Draco's as her mouth touched the sour citrus.

She'd never sucked a slice of lemon with that _diligence_ before.

On the last one, things went rough when she spotted her brother's smirk as she shamelessly flirted with his best friend; he luckily wasn't looking at her, but for some reason she still felt ashamed.

 _What was he going to think about her if he found out?_

Her inner feminist promptly _roared_ when she formulated the thought, but she silenced her just as quickly.

The problem wasn't the fact she was having a _thing_ with someone, the whole problem resided in that someone's identity: she'd had to pick out Theodore's best friend as her _summer affair_.

The damage had already been done, though, in more than one sense: Tequila had spilt all over her shirt.

Scolding herself, Hermione dried and cleaned the fabric with wandless magic; then she looked at her outfit once again, and frowned: it was cute for Quidditch, but for a party her pants and combat boots felt kind of lame in the middle of August.

Her clothes turned into a dark-grey, velvety dress with a nice surplice neckline.

The woman's back was completely exposed with the exception of two thin straps that crossed in the middle; the skirt flowed down, reaching slightly further down than the middle of her thigh.

In a confident gesture, she gripped the hairband that kept her messy bun together and untied it. "You boys go take a break and enjoy yourselves", she announced, putting one hand on both Draco's and Blaise's arms to push them away.

"I'll take care of the bar", she added when they gave her a questioning look.

"Then I shall be your first client and have a Mojito. When did you change? That dress looks fabulous. _Oh, wait_ , of course it does. _I designed that_ ", Pansy chirped with a giant smile on her lips.

There was a spark in her eyes that Hermione had never seen there before.

"It's not exactly the one you put on my closet. It's a duplicate I made two minutes ago, that boots were starting to annoy me", she replied while fixing her drink. "I'm afraid I'm too used to pretty dresses to wear sweatpants to a party, no matter how _rustic_ ".

" _Aww_ , that's my baby!", the other squeaked, her voice five times higher than usual.

She couldn't say if it was either because of the alcohol or the happiness she so clearly emanated. Whatever it was, the brunette was pleased to see such an elated expression on her dearest friend's face. "There you go", she said when she finally finished mixing Pansy's Mojito. " _Who's next?_ "

Godric, did she miss working in a bar.

MagiTech obviously fulfilled her, but sometimes she felt like it was too frenetic, and she thought about the " _quiet days_ " she'd spent working at _The Millenium_ , a nightclub in the periphery of Sydney.

It was funny, because at the time she'd hated the place with every cell in her body (and all her magic); besides from the dancers she'd become really close with, Hermione never enjoyed the other bartender, Rachel, or the owner, a sexist piece of shit that went by the nickname of _Silver_ _Bug_.

She'd never figured out what that was supposed to mean, but some rumours claimed it had something to do with his man parts, about whom the witch really didn't want to think about.

She smiled while taking ordinations for four more people: she loved how she could listen to everyone's conversations, but she wasn't required to participate if she didn't wish to do so.

It was very similar to reading a book, from her perspective.

"I can't believe you've never been there", Luna was laughing at an inside-joke between her and Theo that she hadn't figured out, _yet_ , but she was glad to see him so relaxed for once. "You know what? I'll take you. What about Tuesday morning? **_I promise it will blow your mind_** ".

"That's rather demanding. **_I promise I'll buy you lunch if it really does blow my mind_** ", her brother replied with the low tone she'd learnt to recognize as his _flirting voice_ during their two-weeks-long trip around the world at the beginning of the month.

Smirking at the unlikely, yet perfectly reasonable pair, she moved her gaze to the couple on their left: Harry and Pansy had already finished their drinks (and their refills) and now were occupied in a very heated making out session.

She wondered what they'd done in the woods to suddenly be this lovestruck, or better, what had happened that had made them drop their usual discretion.

Blaise had left as soon as he'd received his drink, looking for Ginny.

The only person she hadn't looked up at that was left was Draco, so she forced her eyes to move further on the left. They shared an awkward smile.

Next to him was standing Dennis Creevey, who had an arm awkwardly raised at mid-air, waiting for her to give him some attention.

" _C-can I have a drink?_ "

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
...and here we are, though later than anticipated.  
I hope you enjoyed the chapter, which opens the  
second part of this story: " _No reason to stay is a_  
 _reason to go_ " (I wonder what that may refer to, eheh).  
I'm posting this chapter in a thirty minutes span I  
managed to find, so I won't be as talkative as usual  
and try to use my time to work a little on the chapter  
I'm currently writing, the 14th. Lately today on tumblr  
( _ **godisawitchfic**_ ) the teaser for chapter 13th will be  
published. Please, go vote on the poll on  
my bio! I need your help to decide which sub-plots  
I should give my attention first. Have a lovely week!


	13. FEEL IT STILL

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **13.**

 **FEEL IT STILL**

.

" _c _an't keep my hands to myself, think I'll dust 'em off,  
put 'em back up on the shelf, in case my little baby girl is in need  
am I coming out of left field ?_ _"

* * *

 ** _The Burrow, Ottery St. Catchpole, August 19_** ** _th_** ** _, 2003_**

After she'd served Dennis Creevey the Butterbeer he'd ordered, patiently listening to his apologies for the way his boss had behaved at her party, Hermione spent the following two hours mixing drinks and handing them to all kinds of people.

In such a short amount of time, the witch had been updated on the lives of most of her former schoolmates: Cho Chang's contract with the Holyhead Harpies was about to end, and recently she'd received a generous offer from another team, the Appleby Arrows, but she was determined to decline because accepting would have meant transferring to the extreme north of England; the Patil twins were currently not talking to each other, while Anthony Goldstein had both confessed Padma he still thought about her and asked Parvati for some time on his own; Blaise's sister, Cassandra, had let her crush for Neville Longbottom slip out of her lips over a couple of Daiquiris.

Hermione had collected stories worth years of _WitchWeekly_ columns.

Theo and the others had returned to the party after about twenty minutes, and she had only sporadically seen a couple of them since then, when they'd showed up asking for cocktails.

Around 2 a.m. Hermione was tired from working at the bar and she placed the responsibility on a young wizard who'd been a couple of years ahead of her in Hogwarts, a close friend of the Weasley twins, Lee Jordan, leaving before he could refuse in any shape or form.

Most people had left; tomorrow was going to be a Monday, and many people had a job to show up to in the early morning.

She smiled at herself. Hermione was enjoying her time away from MagiTech more than she'd thought possible: besides from the occasional papers to sign, important decisions and emergencies, she'd left things in the hands of some of her most trusted co-workers, caring only about herself and what she wanted to do for the first time in her life.

 _It was amazing_.

Right now, she wanted to be home, so she gave one last look to her surroundings to be sure there was no-one around that she wished to say goodbye to.

Ready to apparate directly in her bedroom, she was stopped by her telephone ringing in the purse she'd just retrieved from the stands.

" _Hello?_ ", she answered the call before she even looked at who was on the other side of the phone.

It was Draco's voice that reached her ears next. " _Are you leaving?_ "

She raised her eyes from the sandals she'd transfigured her boots into, turning her head around to find the familiar spot of pale blond hair.

Two fingers tapped on her right shoulder.

" _Looking for someone?_ "

"You scared me, Malfoy", the witch scolded, turning slowly on her heels.

"Yeah, I've noticed", he smirked, adding a whispered "I'm sorry" she wasn't sure she'd really heard coming out of his lips.

"Is there something you want _or_ …", she trailed off, refusing to look at him directly in the eyes. They had the odd power of shutting down her mind, completely.

"Can we talk?", he asked, his hand moving away from her shoulder to nervously reach the back of his head. " _About the other night_ ".

"What's there to talk about?", she inquired, crossing her arms in front of her chest.

Maybe her attitude was too much on the defensive side, because Draco seemed suddenly eager to remove himself from his spot in front of her.

He gulped. "I'm sorry I left before you woke up".

"You already said that", she mentioned, casually. "It's not a big deal".

"I wrote you a message about it. There's a difference. Call me _old-fashioned_ but I believe some things have to be said to someone's face".

"And some are better if left unsaid", Hermione reprimanded. She couldn't figure out where he wanted to lead her with the conversation and it was stressing her out. She appreciated the gesture, though. "I'm serious, _Draco_ ", she added, forcing herself to pronounce his name like it didn't completely flustered her.

"They never are. Anyway, there was something else I wanted to talk about. I don't know what's going on in your mind right now, so I won't pretend that I do. But I can tell you what's going on inside of mine. I thought thoroughly about it and I am positive that I _don't_ regret it".

"You… _don't_?", she repeated, a deep line of expression running down the middle of her forehead as she furrowed her brows. Then she took a long breath.

"I suppose I don't regret it _either_ ", she added.

At that point a flash of the genuine smile he so rarely sported appeared on his lips, and Hermione found herself unable to look away, unconsciously smiling back.

"I wouldn't be opposed to _repeating_ the experience, you know?"

* * *

That was how Draco ended up chasing after a running, giggling witch.

Once again, honesty had paid him back, and when he'd suggested they give another try to the obvious tension between them, her eyes had shined with that hint of malice that told him he could kiss her, which he did.

He'd kissed her with demanding lips and wandering hands, burning inside in a way he never thought he could feel again.

Hermione led him on the road that would have brought them back to the Burrow, but instead of surpassing the Weasley's vegetable garden, she turned right and took a secondary path invisible to those who didn't know what to look for.

Hidden by some black poplars, a _Yamaha YZF-R6_ was standing in all its sidereal-grey, metal glory.

"Let me introduce you to _Raven_ ", the brunette proudly said. Her chest was flushed from the run, moving fast because of her shaky breathing. Both her skin and her dress were glowing under the pale moonlight, and Draco thought he'd never seen anything so perfect. Ironically enough, she looked more _human_ and _within reach_ than she had when he'd been buried balls deep inside of her.

Perhaps he should have just stopped idealizing her, in the good or in the bad: it hadn't brought him much luck when he'd done so as a kid.

"You can ride a bike?", he asked, bewildered. "You didn't mention it when I showed you mine".

"You didn't ask", she retorted. The witch then grabbed the two helmets hanging from the handlebar, shoving one down her head and handing Draco the other. She climbed onto the saddle with one leg and turned the engine on.

The wizard kept looking at her as he put on his helmet, but made no step towards the bike, so the woman groaned her impatience: "Are you coming or not, Malfoy?"

The way her tongue rolled over the words snapped him out of his state of catatonia. "Aren't you going to be cold?", he asked once he was settled behind her.

"I have a warming charm placed all over the perimeter of the bike, coldness won't be a problem", Hermione explained, and though he couldn't see it, he knew there had to be a smirk on her lips. "Hold on very tight!", she shouted, accelerating without giving him any notice with a confident flick of her wrist.

Draco's hands instinctively flew to her hips, where they remained glued for the rest of the trip: for the first ten minutes, Hermione kept the bike on the road, showing him both her impressive driving skills and her kink for high speed.

Once they reached a stretch of paved road, she brought the engine to its full potency, reaching 14000 rpm; he now expected to be leaving the ground and sailing the sky, just like he was used to do with his own bike, but they disappeared from the road, instead.

Somehow, they'd entered a Port-Key instead.

The wizard's first reaction was one of dread, as he thought they'd fallen into an ambush organized by _Salazar-knew-who_. Then she started executing stunts, her unrestrained laughter completely filling the tunnel made of blue smoke they were racing in.

He relaxed, allowing his hands to soften their grip and meet on her belly, where he crossed his fingers. Draco could feel every inch of her bum pressed against the bulge of his designer muggle jeans.

The one in his embrace wasn't just one of the most beautiful women he had seen, with the long hair and that lovely face, but also one of the cleverest, most interesting people he'd ever spoken to.

Every minute he spent in her company was, quite literally, a (sentimental) journey.

They landed in Hermione's garage at the number 23 of Victoria Street, and quickly made their way to the top floor, where her attic was situated.

Their time inside the lift was occupied by a frenzied making out session, and when they stepped into the hall Draco had already managed to put his hands under her skirt. Twice.

 _She was wet_.

The woman grabbed him by the hand, urging him to the main door.

Once they reached it, she looked inside her purse for the keys. It took her longer than usual because of her _not-so-lucid_ state, but eventually she swung it open.

The couple entered the witch's apartment, and once the door was closed the blond could no longer restrain himself: the build-up to this moment had been driving him insane, now he only wished to lose himself in the softness of her lips.

Which is what he did: he cupped her cheeks and kissed her on the mouth, pressing her body against the wooden panel with his own.

He sighed contently when the witch started to reciprocate his kiss, one hand running to his chest while the other reached further up to grab a fistful of his hair.

Draco had already moved his mouth to her neck, his fingers tingling against the sheer, velvety fabric of her dress, when she surrounded his waist with one of her leg.

Dragging his hands down her body, he placed them under her bum, of which he was a really big _fan_ , and lifted the witch up, helping her putting her leg in the same position as the other.

Hermione's arms were now crossed around his neck, and the only thing she seemed concerned with was pressing herself as hard as she could on a certain portion of his body, which he didn't mind her doing. _At all_.

The wizard's lips left a trail of wet kisses as they descended to her chest, accompanied by a soft moan; further motivated by her response, Draco pushed back, further pinning her on the wall.

One of his hands reached the hem of her neckline, pulling the duffel away so that he could expose one of her breasts.

She wasn't wearing a bra.

He had already seen the witch naked, but that didn't stop him from taking a close, long look to every inch of skin he slowly uncovered.

Merlin, was she beautiful.

Her amber skin quickly turned lighter as he approached the nipple, following the design of the swimsuits she'd wore more recently, which apparently didn't cover much; it was a shade darker than her lips and he brushed his thumb over the round, hardened button before his mouth crashed on it.

There he nibbled, sucked and licked the rosy tip, eliciting a louder, yet deeper sigh from the woman.

Draco repeated his gestures on the other breast, his tongue drawing circles over the nipple when a wicked thought entered his mind.

It was something he had never done before, not with a witch: muggles were much more liberal in their _sexual behaviours_ , and for what concerned intimacy the heir of House Malfoy considered himself a muggle at this point.

Once he'd returned to the wizarding world, at least before Adhara was born and he'd focused all his energies on the well-being of his child, the blond had tried dating witches, but discovered he preferred the _companionship_ of muggle women.

In summary, they were less trouble and more fun, more in tune with their desires and bodies, they weren't ashamed of impulses he'd realized were only natural.

Wizards, especially Purebloods, could be exceptional _prudes_.

A slightly larger maneuvering space was left to males, who could experience a little before their arranged marriages, but overall people were encouraged to quash their instincts and just follow the general rule: sex was a mean to an end, with the end being the continuation of the species (and carrying the family name).

However, the witch in his arms was raised by muggles, and she had quite the upstream attitude. On top of that, he was genuinely dying to _eat_ _her out_.

He put the girl back on her feet, his mind absently registering the sound her heels made when they touched the floor and he started to lift the skirt of her dress while sneaking his other hand under it.

Draco kissed her on the mouth once more, savouring the ever-so-sweet taste of her plump lips, then dragged the fabric all the way up, leaving her body exposed from chest to feet, with the only exception of her panties, which he promptly removed.

His predictions had been right: Hermione Granger wasn't like any other witch, or muggle woman, he'd been with.

Instead of stopping him, or at least having a moment of self-consciousness, when his kisses reached her belly button, silently, slowly announcing his intentions, she grabbed a fistful of his blond hair and pushed him down.

If he was surprised to find a witch who wasn't opposed to _oral sex_ , and in both senses at that, as she'd proved during their first intercourse when she'd gifted Draco the best blowjob of his life, her _eagerness_ to receive such a treatment, and from him of all people, really did a number on his mind.

He happily complied to her request.

The man begun by slowly kissing the soft skin around her center, from the inner side of her thighs, one after the other, to her mons veneris.

She squeaked with anticipation, and Draco could feel she was holding her breath, so he let his tongue slip out of his mouth and started to caress her clit with unhurried, circular movements.

It didn't take long for him to understand what the witch enjoyed the most: quick, precise stokes in up-and-down motions seemed to suit her best.

Hermione's back was arched, and now both her hands were in his hair, pulling the pale-blond tufts as her hips followed the rhythm of the wizard's face.

Soon enough she was a breathless, moaning mess, and he used her temporary loss of control to grab one of her legs, wrapping it around his neck to give himself a better access to her hardened small button.

With the hand he wasn't using to support the witch, whose knees were starting to quiver, he reached up, he ran across her chest.

Draco's hand was big enough for him to give proper attention to both her breasts simultaneously, his thumb brushing over her left nipple while he pinched at the other with his ring finger.

He was so absorbed by his task he realized she'd come when her orgasm was about to die, when Hermione's thigh strengthened its grip on the side of his neck and she used his hair to pull his head back.

She was shivering, from the cold or the climax he couldn't say, and he looked up to see the sweet smile on her lips that had he remembered way too well.

" _Wow, that was_ \- _Mmh_ -", she tried to say, but was interrupted by the new trail of kisses Draco exploited to climb up her body once again, stopping his rise when he met her mouth.

"Yeah, that was… _Mmh_ ", he repeated with a smirk, pulling away from the kiss as it became too heated once again.

The wall the woman's back was currently leaning upon, no matter how promising it looked, wasn't the right place for what he wanted to do next.

He stopped her with a chuckle when she tried to unbutton his shirt, grabbing her hand to lead her to the stairs, then to her bedroom, where he promptly threw her on the bed, removing her silky, grey dress once and for all.

With a little help from Hermione he disregarded his own clothes, then made love to her as he hadn't done with another woman, magical or muggle, before.

* * *

Hermione didn't think Draco Malfoy was the type of man who liked to cuddle _afterwards_ , and half a day later, as she was getting ready for her dinner at Pansy's, her mind kept loosing focus on the current task, _eyeliner_ , and drifting back to the passionate love-making session she'd participated in.

Images from last night kept running in her head: the way he'd looked her in the eyes the entire time, how gentle yet strong his hand felt, or the fact he'd caressed her hair until she'd fallen asleep.

She'd woken up alone in her bed, again, still naked, and for a moment she'd felt inexplicably sad, but then her eyes had landed on his shirt, still sitting on her floor; next thing she knew, he was taking that same shirt off of her, and they were having sex on her kitchen table, completely ignoring the breakfast he'd so meticulously prepared for her.

Hermione shook her head, trying to regain some control over her own thoughts, but in doing so she dragged the black line far too up on the right side of her face, completely ruining what was once a perfect cat-liner.  
She was about to curse out loud all dead witches and wizards whose names she could remember when the mobile phone sitting on her vanity started vibrating.

The display informed her it was both seven past thirty p.m., meaning she was already quite late, and of Pansy's incoming call.

Instead of answering, she picked up a cleaning-wipe and erased the tail of her eyeliner, then reapplied it by guiding her hand's movements with magic; in less than a minute her makeup was completed, so she grabbed her purse and quickly dis-apparated.

She hadn't knocked on the door yet when it opened, revealing her best friend's bright smile. "Hermione!", Pansy cooed. "I was starting to feel like you stood me up".

"I'd _never_ ", the brunette said, waving a dismissing hand in front of her. "Just lost track of time, you know? I was going over some documents I received from Sydney the other day", she lied.

Well, it was partially true: she'd received said papers, and she'd indeed examined them, but that she'd done the very day she'd returned from her holiday with her brother.

Pansy must have known that, too, because as soon as she followed her inside, took a sit on her sofa and a look at the pizza menu the dark-haired witch promptly shoved into her hands, she started with her questions.

"Don't treat me like I'm an idiot, _doll_ ", she warned. "I know you checked on whatever papers you received the minute you got back here, and that was three days ago".

"Apparently, _Lex is ready to let go_ ", the other replied, eager to change subject.

She couldn't tell Pansy she'd been daydreaming about Malfoy, could she?

"Oh, really? Now, _that_ is interesting. Last time I checked he didn't want to finalize your annulment and he was still trying to steal your money".

"I think it was his father's doing from the very beginning. I'll never forgive him for what he was planning on doing to me, but he's not the one who gets my _hate_ in this whole situation", Hermione started to expose her reasoning, then told Pansy about the heart-breaking letter he'd sent her.

Her empathy obviously hadn't calmed her need for _justice_ : the number Mr. Martin had tried to pull on her with the help of his son, to whom she'd given her trust, couldn't be forgotten, nor it could be forgiven.

From the words he'd poured his soul into, however, the witch had realized that there was more to the story, and she was willing to hear his side before definitely making up her mind.

Lex had endured a quite abusive childhood with his mother, a drug-addict squib who used to beat him, and met his father only later in his life, when he'd graduated from one of the most prestigious universities in the world with outstanding grades, thanks to a scholarship the Australian Ministry of Magic had awarded him.

He'd learned too late that August Martin was just a bastard who'd seen an opportunity to exploit his son, a handsome young man with incredible intelligence (and _magic_ , too), and had started to nurture him just so that he could use him when and if an opportunity came out.

Lex had asked for a meeting with her to explain himself and even provide evidence about his father's scheming, but she hadn't decided what to do _yet_.

She'd pondered talking to Dylan about this, as his advice had always proved to be useful, but then she'd opted for Pansy instead.

Maybe she never loved Lex, but she still had had feelings for him, feelings that had been hurt, and Pansy was usually the best choice when it came to this kind of subject.

"I think you should agree to meet him", Pansy said, calmly. "At least to gather evidence against August Martin, that _piece of shit_ deserves to rot in jail".

"I have my legal team _and_ a private investigator already working on that", the other replied, determined to get _real_ advice from her best friend. "And he could send me the evidence, if he really wishes to come clean. He still tried to marry me in order to have MagiTech signed over to him at some point in our marriage".

"And you should _kick him in the balls_ for that, of course", Pansy scoffed, the piece of parchment still in her hands. "But I feel like he deserves to be heard, you know? He's been abused by both his parents, though in different ways, and I bet he's saved the worst stories for when he sees you".

"I'm afraid that if I start sympathizing too much with him, then I'll lose my focus. I want August to pay for what he's done to me, and I can't be sure this isn't some further scheming on Lex's part. Maybe he's trying to lure me back in or… I don't know. I really wish I could just forget about it".

It was only by voicing her thoughts, sharing them with Pansy, that Hermione finally admitted with herself that she couldn't bring herself to be the better person and simply let go: she wanted _vengeance_.

"We both know you can't do that", the other with snarled. "And you shouldn't. What they did to you was completely wrong and _abominable_ , and you should seek justice for it. What I'm saying is that maybe Lex could be a victim in this, too".

"He's still responsible for hurting me, though", Hermione mused. "But I guess you're right, I must hear his side of the story before I decide what to do. Maybe he doesn't deserve to go down with his father".

"So, when does he want to meet?"

"Next Friday morning, if I recall correctly", the brunette replied, then grabbed the piece of parchment back, skimming through the end of the letter. "Oh, no. It was Tuesday. He wants to meet on Tuesday, for lunch", she corrected when she was done reading the missive once again.

"I can come with you, if that makes you feel safer", Pansy suggested, carefully opening one of the bottles of wine her guest had brought along with a simple flick of her wrist and a muttered spell. "I'm sure Theo would come, too, if you asked him".

"I don't want to drag him into this mess", the former Gryffindor sighed, eagerly taking a big sip of the glass that had just been poured for her. "He still has his fake engagement to end, a problem which I hope will be resolved as soon as possible, and he still has to figure out what he wants to do next, now that he's left the foundation. _Nope_ , he has too much on his cauldron, already".

Pansy couldn't help but smirk. "You don't really like _Daphne_ , do you?"

"What do you mean?", Hermione asked, furrowing her brows. " ** _I have nothing against Daphne. I don't know much about her…_** "

"But you don't like her either-", Pansy chimed in, but stopped herself when she heard the words that came out of her friend's mouth next.

" ** _…But I know she's the one who hurt you four years ago_** ".

* * *

Pansy couldn't control her initial reaction, no matter how hard she tried to hide her gasp under a fake cough.

"Oh, don't look at me like that, _Pan_! You may fool the rest of your Slytherin group, but not me. You're an open book and I happened to be a _fervent_ reader".

All colour seemed to be drained off her cheeks, but she managed to partially regain her composure. "How did you figure it out?", she whispered, nervously chewing on her lips.

It was a secret she'd never shared with anyone: she'd promised Daphne to never mention their _teenage affair_ , like she'd called it, to anyone.

Pansy had kept her word. Hermione knew the reason she'd left England four years before, her parents disowning her after discovering she was not only bisexual, but also determined not to marry the wizard they'd chosen for her; however, she'd always been very careful not to give any hints about the witch she was in love with at the time.

Or at least, that's what she'd thought until now.

"I've suspected it since you first mentioned it, your group used to be very close in school and there weren't many Slytherin girls in our year. I never saw you lot give much attention to younger students in your house or students from other houses, and like I said it was just a suspect. It was confirmed to me when we all had dinner here. The Pansy I know would have run to the bathroom to comfort her friend after yelling what a _bitch_ I was acting like, but you did nothing. It's your indifference that confirmed my theory, really", Hermione explained with a shrug. "Besides, you mentioned a couple of details about the mysterious girl who'd broken your heart over the years, mainly during _drunken rants_ I partially listened to. I put two and two together, I guess, though I repeat, it was mostly an unconscious thought until I got back here and saw you two interact".

"She's not a bad person", Pansy felt the need to defend her. "But yes, she did _break_ my heart, _stomp_ on it and _spit_ at what was left of it. Over time I started to _pity_ her, if I can be honest…", she trailed off, sharing an understanding glance with her friend before she filled both glasses once again.

Hermione just nodded with her head, inviting her to continue the narration. She seemed rather happy that they were finally approaching the subject, and that made Pansy remember that she had questions to ask, too.

 _'That evil minx is trying to distract me'._

"I think I never felt as free as the day I spoke to my parents for the last time and left the Manor", she confessed. "Yes, I was left alone, I've been erased from the family tree and my inheritance was taken away from me… But I was _free_. Free to be who I want to be and free to love who I want to love. Don't worry, I know that I speak like this only because I had the strength to escape, and I realize that we aren't all the same and people find different ways to different means, which is why I think our society should remove the stigma imposed on LGBT+ people, so that one day sexual preference can be an information you can share like you would with your favourite ice-cream, without raising an entire debate, but… I don't know, I guess what always hurt the most it's that I was ready to give up on everything for her, while she never even considered the option".

Hermione listened patiently to her rant, providing a sympathetic look or a reassuring squeeze of her hand where she deemed necessary, without interrupting her once.

"I'll give my _cousin_ a proper chance when she'll let my brother go. I haven't met Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass yet, but Astoria escaped the arranged marriage just fine from what I know, so I really don't understand Daphne's need to fake an engagement with Theo. As for what she did to you, I'm afraid I have nothing nice to say about it. I guess we all make our romantic mistakes in our youth", she said.

Pansy didn't miss the guilt flashing in her eyes as she spoke.

"What do you mean?", she inquired, not sure she was truly understanding the meaning behind the witch's words. "Daphne and I have quit a singular history".

"I'm aware of that. Two girls falling in love in old, archaic Pureblood society", Hermione snorted. "I can imagine just how smooth that could possibly go. My point is, we've all broken our share of hearts, especially when we were too young to understand what kind of damage a broken heart can do to a person".

She hadn't been able to stand her gaze, which confirmed the dark-haired witch's theory about her best friend feeling guilty. _Of what, though?_

"I discovered about it only recently, but apparently I did something quite similar to someone I really, really cared about", she continued when she noticed that no answer was coming from Pansy yet. "Allegedly, Ronald was in love with me".

" _Bitch, please_! Everyone knew about that", Pansy scoffed. "Well, anyone except _you_. In the dungeons we had a bet placed on whether you would have become a couple or not, you know? Now that I think about it, Millicent still owes me fifty Galleons".

The first bottle of wine was almost empty at that point, so Hermione, instead of scowling Pansy for speculating over her sentimental life, just chuckled.

"Now I'm curious. What was your bet? What was Millicent's?", she asked.

"I said you could _never_ end up with him. Your chemistry was completely off. Millie said that you probably would have married just because it was what it was expected of you, but you would have got a divorce in five years, at most, because she'd heard _muggles are liberals_ or something like that. Surely after the first child", Pansy filled her in, searching through teenage memories of reckless Slytherin gatherings, frowning when she said the last sentence.

She really couldn't imagine a reality when that had happened.

"Yeah, sure. I hope your friend paid her debt", Hermione laughed, quickly pushing the thought of her and Ron having a child in the back of her mind: it was simply preposterous.

"She never gave me the money, but I think she thoroughly paid her debt to karma. Mr. Bullstrode signed her over to a Pureblood dynasty who arrived from Sweden a couple of centuries ago. It's a very discreet and secretive family, they're many but only a few members of the clan attend social gatherings. She's kind of disappeared after the marriage, but I can tell you what we've all thought of her husband, Ludwig. He's _creepy as fuck_ , Hermione. I swear".

"I'm sad for her", the brunette said after a while. "People are not supposed to be _sold_ ".

"It's the _old Pureblood way_ , I guess. Everyone has a price and your children have no value. Welcome to my world _, Eloise Nott_ ", Pansy mused, quite sadly. "I hate it!"

"What's worse is that _in-breeding_ shit you've been doing for the past few centuries. Muggles understood it leads to diseases and other complications a long time ago, luckily. It's something forbidden: you don't fuck your family", Hermione lectured.

Her intention was obviously that of easing the tension their conversation had brought upon both witches, but Pansy was quickly to turn her words against her: plain Slytherin rudiments.

"You should stop addressing us as some foreign, metaphysical entity that doesn't include you, too. You may consider yourself muggle-born, and for some aspects you are, but like it or not you're a Pureblood, too. I'm afraid it comes with some _package_ ".

Hermione gulped. "I dread the moment I'll look at my family tree, to be honest".

"Don't worry about that. The Sacred Twenty-Eight have been carefully documented through the years, and like every proper Pureblood heiress I spent my childhood studying names, alliances and marriages. Nott's blood is like _gold, but covered in diamonds_ ", she explained. "Your family, just like mine, used to look for spouses in other nations or continents when no one fitting was available in England. Your bloodline is even more exquisite than mine, if you'll pass me these terms, and that's because Nott House has had only sons for the past eleven or twelve generations".

"That's insane! _I don't give two fucks about blood_. Seriously, two wars and people still talk about that?", the witch exploded, almost spilling her red wine on Pansy's white carpet. "I'm outraged, for the love of Godric-"

"I believe things are changing. _Slowly_ , but changing", the dark-haired woman murmured, interrupting her friend before she could start venting: she was capable of doing that for hours. "But if the new generations are embracing values like equality, freedom and human brotherhood, the old people are struggling adjusting to this new reality, or at least that's what I've gathered from the boys, especially when the Ministry is carrying such a strong anti-Pureblood campaign".

"I won't allow a third war to happen", Hermione decreed, seriously. "But it won't come to that, hopefully", she added, her voice dropping a tone.

"It won't, not with your technology and all the efforts the Ministry has put into the new and improved Auror department. You wouldn't believe some of the things Harry has told me about the _Defence Team_. They're supposed to be these twelve people trained from both muggle and wizarding police forces all over the world, like the best of the best. Apparently, they costed the Ministry a fortune, which is why post-war reparations are taking so long and the Wizengamot keeps raising the amount some families have to pay for their actions in the war", Pansy said, then felt her throat incredibly soar and smiled at the familiar feeling: it had been a long time since she'd talked so much with her best friend she'd dried her mouth and felt dizzy.

Their girl's night went pretty much downhill from there; as they opened the second bottle of wine and decided to finish it before heading out for dinner instead of ordering pizza, serious topics were disregarded for lighter ones.

As they were approaching Pansy's car, a lovely convertible car in the best shade of black her owner had ever seen, the dark-haired witch decided to ask the question who'd been tormenting her since the day before, at the celebrating party after the Quidditch match.

"So, who's the lucky guy you're shagging?"

The blush that crept on Hermione's cheeks, visible to her because of the light coming out of the street lamp, confirmed her suspicions: it was a rather juicy piece of gossip.

The brunette let out a frustrated sigh, skilfully avoiding the question by opening the car-door and letting herself into the vehicle, shutting it beside her.

Pansy rolled her eyes, then followed her inside the cabriolet. She turned the keys and started the engine but waited for the two of them to be half-way across the road before speaking again, luring her best friend into a false sense of security.

"Cut the secrecy, 'Mione, _I mean it_. It's _me_ ", she said, matter-of-factly.

They were headed to Harry's, as she wanted to check out if her boyfriend was up for a night out considering their change of plans. She was about to suggest they extend the invitation to more people, when something in Hermione's glance stopped her in her tracks.

"Fine", the witch growled. "I shagged someone. Twice", she admitted.

"And why would that be a problem?", Pansy shrugged, her eyes fixed on the road as she expertly maneuvered the steering wheel, turning to the left when the traffic light allowed her to pass.

"It can only end badly. This… man, he's not someone I'm supposed to be shagging".

"I'll stop you right there and remind you that ' _you fought for a world where anyone could shag anyone as they please_ ', or something along those lines. Really, what is your problem?", she prompted. "There's someone you like enough to shag twice, what a _scandal_! Stop the bullshit and give me the details, already".

She wasn't buying it. It was obvious Hermione was keeping something from her, but her love life had always been one of the subjects the pair of them discussed at length.

Lost in her thoughts, wondering if the return to England had pushed her friend several steps back in her struggle about opening her heart to others, the former Slytherin almost missed her next sentence.

"It was Draco. It's Draco Malfoy I had sex with, _twice_ ", Hermione stated, quietly, looking outside of the windshield.

She gasped. "You- What? With Draco? Oh, _Salazar_!", she yelled, then filled the vehicle with her laughter.

She couldn't say she hadn't seen it coming, Pansy wasn't blind, nor was she oblivious, not when it came to the people who mattered the most to her: Hermione wasn't only her best friend, but also the person who'd literally saved her from a life of misery; as for Draco, the two Slytherin had known each other for as long as they could remember, long before they'd entered Hogwarts, and it was thanks to Malfoy if she hadn't loose her mind when the world as she'd known it had collapsed.

She'd noticed the tension between them, but something had shifted in their chemistry from their days in school; if she had to be honest, though, she'd always thought the two had great chemistry, what with the way they riled each other up mercilessly, just that they would have never acted upon it, and for obvious reasons.

The war had changed everything.

"I wonder what he has done to you exactly", she mused after a while, noticing the way Hermione was lost in her own mind, a small smile on her lips that quickly turned into a frown.

"He hasn't done anything. Anything bad, that is", the brunette corrected.

"Yeah, I gathered that much from your expression, _sweetheart_ ", Pansy replied, not impressed. "Will there be a third time?", she asked, slowing down the car to enter the parking lot in front of Grimmauld Place, n. 12.

"It's very likely", Hermione said, quietly. "I wouldn't be opposed to that".

"Then go for it. I'm afraid you'll have to tell me details another time".

Of course, Pansy could have prolonged their car ride in many different ways, it was London they were talking about, but she knew Hermione needed time to process her thoughts before she could share them with her, and for once she decided to be patient and don't intrude: she'd tried to push her away from Lex, and the Gryffindor had ended up marrying him, even though the marriage had lasted less than twenty-four hours; maybe she should just offer her support, but don't mingle in her decisions, not explicitly, at least.

She pulled the handbrake, then turned the keys anticlockwise.

After knocking on the door, waiting for Harry's response, she couldn't help but ask one last question. "It's not like with Terrence, right?"

The doubt had crept up on her; if Hermione was looking for someone to just use for her carnal instincts, then maybe the blond wizard wasn't her best option, as that could become rather awkward _and_ rather quickly.

"Who's Terrence?"

"The personal trainer. _Never mind_ ", Pansy smirked.

It was all the confirmation she needed.

' _50 Galleons these two end up married. Bring it on, Millie_ '.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, people! I hope you don't hate me _too_ much.  
I know, it's been a while, but I hope it was worth it!  
I cringed both when I wrote the lemon & when I fixed it  
today before uploading. I don't know, english still feels  
a little strange for this kind of purpose, I guess.  
But I'm willing to get better, so expect to see more in the  
future. Please, remember to vote in the poll you can find  
right under my bio. I'm currently working on chapter 17th  
and I'd love your help in deciding what subplots I should  
explore first. Have a lovely weekend! Until next time.


	14. GOOD FORM

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **14.**

 **GOOD FORM**

.

" __you see I let him eat the cookie 'cause it's good for him  
and when he bite, he eat the cookie he got good form  
he know that when I'm pullin' up I'm in a good foreign  
i be like ooh he love me, ooh he love me, good form  
come on, come on, come on  
i be like ooh he love me, ooh he love me, good form (come on)_ _"

* * *

 ** _Diagon Alley, August 19th, 2003_**

Hermione and Pansy stood for five minutes in front of Grimmauld Place, n. 12, before realizing the owner probably wasn't home. A quick phone-call from his girlfriend confirmed the witches' suspicions, and they checked their surroundings before they jointly dis-apparated to the location he'd invited them to join him.

A huge party seemed to be taking place in Diagon Alley that night and large crowds of people filled the air with their laughing and talking; after almost landing on top of a group of children that was playing in front of _Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes_ , the pair set off to find The-Boy-Who-Lived among the mass of people walking down the wizarding venue.

Most shops had set up stalls exposing their products, there were kiosks that served free refreshments approximately every ninety-eight feet and artists performing on the street, assembles of people gathering around those they deemed more talented.

From the facades of buildings enchanted lights hanged down in intricate patterns: everything exuded magic that night, from the army of Auror lined up on the corners of streets perpendicular to the main one, where the celebration was taking place on the road, in front of the shops, to the general exuberance that seemed to have taken control of every participant.

Wizards and witches from all over the United Kingdom had travelled to London today for the first edition of the _Summer Festival_ the Ministry's human resources had organized.

The event had been advertised in every way possible, as it had costed quite a bit of money and the government was eager to cover the bills, but the two witches had forgotten about it until Harry had texted his girlfriend, sharing his current location.

"There's Theo!", Hermione pointed her finger at her brother, of whom she'd recognized the figure from far behind. "Let's go say hello to him".

She rushed in his direction without paying attention to what Pansy was trying to say to her, and when she finally reached him it was too late to turn on her heels and disappear: Theodore wasn't alone, but in the company of Daphne and his _fake_ in-laws.

"Good evening, brother", she greeted, pulling him into a brief hug.

Hermione did her best to plaster a smile on her face as she quickly recollected her thoughts and turned on her cousin's direction. "Daphne, it's a pleasure to meet you again", she said, then kissed her on both cheeks.

Her conversation with Pansy over dinner flashed in her mind, but she hastily disregarded it, waiting to be introduced to Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass.

She could safely say she knew nothing about them, except that they were her uncle and aunt and that thus far she didn't approve of their educational methods (nor the fact they were pressing their daughter to marry an older wizard she didn't like, thereby forcing her to fake an engagement with her first-grade cousin).

"Yellow Hippogriffs!", the old man muttered, incredulously. " _Eloise_! My dear child-"

"It's nice to properly meet you, at last", his wife interrupted with an overly sweet voice that made Hermione instantly _dislike_ her. "Theodore has told us everything about his most recent… _discovery_ ".

"I'm Euripides Greengrass, your uncle, and this is my wife, Idabelle", the man said, extending his right arm for her to shake. If he noticed the struggle written all over the woman standing next to him, who clearly didn't like being ignored, he didn't show. "Merlin forbids me, your resemblance to my lovely sister Anastasia is quite impressive".

A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, but he didn't falter, nor he looked overly upset. Just… _happy to see her_ , perhaps?

Unfortunately, the same couldn't be said about Mrs. Greengrass, who was sending daggers at the Nott siblings with her eyes; she hadn't missed how quickly Theodore had left her daughter's side to be next to his twin and she very obviously didn't enjoy it one bit.

"Your mother was a rather beautiful witch", she chimed in, imperceptibly cocking one of her eyebrows as if she was suggesting that Hermione, however, couldn't match her parent's beauty. "But you do have your father's eyes", she added, her fake smile growing brighter as she noticed the witch shifting uncomfortably on her spot, realizing she'd, indeed, hit a nerve. "A charming, charming man".

"I have no doubts about that, Mrs. Greengrass", Hermione stated, simply, in a cold tone that mixed both her business and (personal) devil-may-care attitudes. "Though I think it's not safe to express your liking for a convicted Death Eater out in the open, now is it? People may jump to the wrong _conclusions_ ".

The witch hadn't meant to openly threaten the woman, she really had no time for snooty Pureblood ladies who thought they were better than anyone else, but something in the way the woman had looked at the siblings with disgust had triggered the fighter inside of her.

Idabelle grimaced, but quickly hid her stupor. "Of course, _darling_ ", she muttered through gritted teeth. "You don't want that when papers are speculating about his children following his steps into the Dark Arts".

"That's enough, Ida", her husband intervened, not liking the turn the conversation was taking and clearly unnerved by his wife. "We would love to have you for dinner, sooner or later, get acquainted with our niece, especially with a wedding ahead of us. Now, if you'll excuse us, I want to see if I can find Astoria, I haven't seen her all evening".

He took Hermione's hand and squeezed it again, then fixed his glance on Pansy, who'd been silent until that point, and directly acknowledged her presence. "Ms. Parkinson, you've grown up quite a bit", he commented, a small smile on his lips, and it was way more than what she'd received from the rest of upper Pureblood society since her return to England.

"Are you coming, sweetheart?", the man added, looking at his daughter.

"Of course, Father. I have an idea of where Astoria might be", Daphne replied, very politely, slightly bowing her head as she addressed the man.

The whole scene was way too archaic for Hermione's liking, and encouraged a derisive scoff on Pansy's part, while Theodore did his best to hide his discomfort.

The wizard's cheeks turned bright red when Mr. Greengrass, already on his tracks, stopped and turned once again. "What about you, nephew? Will you be joining us?"

"I think I'll stay here and show my sister around", he answered with reverent tone, the gears in his mind working furiously to come up with a decent excuse. When he was confident the one he'd picked could be enough to detach himself from his in-laws without dis-respecting them, he smiled brightly at his uncle, completely ignoring his wife, who was now staring at him with a grimace on her pretty, yet aged face. "You know how some… families are _reacting_ to the latest news", he whispered, confidentially.

"We don't want our precious _Eloise_ to be tricked by some worthless wizard into accepting a courtship, do we?", Euripides smirked, but then his face's muscles tightened into a serious expression. "Take good care of her, Theo".

Then he left, without considering waiting for a reply; Mr. Greengrass seemed a decent enough man, all things considered, but he still lived according to principles that Hermione found simply out-dated and atrocious, which she was keen on underline as soon as he was out of ear's reach.

" _Woah_ , that was something", she scoffed. "What does he think I am? A brainless Barbie in need of protection? And from what? Some Pureblood assholes I couldn't care less about?"

"He means well", Pansy intervened with small voice. "The way some wizarding clans administrate their marriages is… _shady_ , at best. Mr. Greengrass probably wants to make sure his niece is aware of all the rules before she starts playing the game".

"I don't know what kind of twisted game you are talking about, but what makes you think that I'm interested in playing it at all?", the brunette retorted. "I have my fair share of _upper society crap_ anytime I meet my shareholders and really I have no need-"

"I'm perfectly aware of that, you know? I used to sit next to you during those meetings. But we are talking of something completely different here", the other advised, sharing a knowing look with Theodore. The one she was trying to start wasn't a conversation Hermione had proved to be ready for. "Some traditions are more difficult than others to get rid of".

"You keep repeating that, but to me it's just your way to justify your families' behaviour", she snapped. _What in hell did they teach to Pureblood children to make them just so passive and disinterested about their own life? They had been indoctrinated to believe themselves as their parents' property, or they were simply masochists?_ Before she could go on and rant a little more on the evils of privilege and aristocracy, wishing out loud for the wizarding community to start living in the same century the rest of world was in.

"I'm tired to hear you say that", Theo admitted, curtly. "Like it or not, the family whose behaviour you're condemning without knowing all the facts, is as mine as it's yours. Learn to live with it".

Pansy snapped her fingers, trying to focus their attention on herself. The siblings looked on the edge of an argument and she really didn't want to be a part of it.

"Harry's over there! Join us when you're done with your… Your little debate", she said, then left them to their own devices.

Pansy walked fast on her heels to reach her boyfriend, kissing him soundly on the lips when she did so. It had been only a couple hours since they'd parted, but after what had happened the night before, she couldn't blame herself if she wanted to spend a little more time alone with him.

Harry had proposed.

Lily Potter's engagement ring felt heavy on her finger, but she didn't mind it, it was like it was his way of telling he was with her for all the steps in the way; they'd decided to keep it concealed by a spell for now, waiting for the right moment to tell their friends about it.

In the middle of the Summer Festival, surrounded by hundreds of people and the press, clearly wasn't that.

"I was starting to worry", Harry whispered in her ear. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine", she replied, hugging him tightly. "Just a little trouble between Hermione and Theo, they were discussing over Pureblood society again, but she's just pissed off because he's still in his fake engagement with Daphne".

"Nott seems fine enough to me", he mused. "Didn't he run away from home to avoid _His_ mark? It doesn't sound very _Pureblood supremacist_ , does it?"

"He's never been a supremacist of any kind. His mother lived enough to make sure of that. But Hermione has a point. What Daphne is forcing him to do is not right".

"I thought he was helping her out of his own free will…?"

"He is, but he shouldn't put his life on hold because she can't stand up for herself".

"We'll discuss this later, there's someone I need to tell the good news", he smirked, taking her by the hand so that they could approach Andromeda and Teddy, who were walking in their direction.

"It's nice to see you here, _Meda_ ", Harry greeted, kissing the woman's cheek, but his attention was focused on the five years old with neon purple hair on her side. "How's my favourite godson?"

"I'm your only godson", Teddy said with a giggle. The child closed his eyes, matching his exterior to the wizard's. His hair sat _darker_ and _messier_ on his head, two pools of green replaced Nymphadora's big, brown eyes.

"He's fine", the older witch re-assured him. "We were actually looking for my sister. I thought this was the right time for Teddy to meet his great-uncles, Narcissa and I have been writing to each other frequently…", she trailed off, sending a questioning gaze to Harry.

To an outsider, the amount of information the woman was sharing would have sound exaggerated; however, Pansy knew the truth: she knew Harry had taken his responsibility as Teddy's godfather very seriously from day one, it was only fair for Andromeda to give him a chance to express his opinion about getting the child acquainted with the Malfoys.

They had been on the wrong side of the war that had costed the same child his parents, but Narcissa had saved Harry's life, after all, changing dramatically the outcome of the Battle of Hogwarts, and it had been _his_ idea to introduce him to Adhara, his cousin and now practically best friend, when he'd first discovered about Draco having a daughter.

The-Boy-Who-Lived had worked very hard on his grudges in the aftermath of the war, so it's wasn't really a surprise for his girlfriend when he just smiled and nodded his head, ultimately giving his blessing.

"Any idea where she might be?", he simply asked.

"If I remember a thing or two about her, she'll probably be wherever they sell flower seeds. That woman always had a thing for exotic, high-maintenance breeds".

"High-maintenance, indeed", a male, deep voice thundered from behind their backs. "But completely worth it, if I do say so myself. The gardens at the Manor have reached their peak with the current _Lady of the House_ ".

Without them noticing, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy had approached, but there was no trace of Draco or his child.

"Our son will be joining us in a couple of minutes, Adhara begged him to go see the small zoo of exotic animals they set up next of Ollivander's old shop", Narcissa gracefully explained when she felt Harry's questioning gaze on her. "Teddy, I'm very glad to finally meet you", she added, leaning forward so that her face could be closer to the child's. She caressed one of his cheek, then raised her eyes on her sister, straightening her posture.

Teddy seemed scared of the witch in fancy robes at first, but then the corner of his lips moved upwards in a wide smile, and he did his magic once again: this time, he gave himself the lightest shade of blond, long, straight hair and blue eyes.

"How did he...?", Lucius asked, taken aback by such a display of magical power in a child that young and not educated.

"My daughter, Nymphadora…", started Andromeda, but she stopped abruptly as her mind wandered through the memories of her only child, whom she'd lost too soon and too painfully.

"Nymphadora was a Metamorphmagus", Harry intervened, giving the woman enough time to recompose herself.

"She must have been a very talented witch", Narcissa said, politely, but couldn't find in herself the strength of looking her sister in the eyes. Despite the words and promises they'd exchanged in their letters, she still wasn't sure Andromeda could ever really forgive her, nor she was sure she deserved her forgiveness in the first place.

"Talented and clumsy, my little girl", the black-haired witch nodded, a genuine smile on her lips despite the fact she was about to break down and cry. "Teddy, darling, this is your great-aunt Narcissa, my sister, and on her side it's your great-uncle, Lucius", she said, doing the best she could to hide the venom when she pronounced her brother-in-law's first name.

She was willing to grow close to her youngest sister once again, but she wasn't sure her offer was extended to her husband, too.

She'd already become very attached to her nephew, Draco, over two and a half years of play-dates, but Lucius still enraged her.

It was thanks to people like him, no matter how ( _and if_ ) repentant, that she had lost her family and her grandson was an orphan.

"You _aged_ , Lucius", she said with a smirk. Her fifty-one years of experience taught her not to rush into her judgements, especially in an emotional state like the current. She extended her arm, offering her hand to the man like it was good costume in their times, like she'd done many times during Cissa's engagement, before she'd decided to elope with Ted and run away from House Black.

On his part, Lucius knew that Andromeda's gesture wasn't out of courtesy: it was a test, a very simple yet clever and discreet one.

In kissing the hand of a witch that had been banished by Pureblood circles, he would have been making a statement against the _status quo_ , declaring himself as an enemy of anything those very circles stood for.

He did so while returning her smirk, amused by the thought of what his abusive father would have thought of his choice: he'd realized too wait that his family was the only thing worth fighting for, when the war had already made the first casualties and he was already involved too deeply with the dark side, but five years in Azkaban spent missing his wife and son every day, hearing tales of a granddaughter whose first steps he wasn't witnessing, had convinced Lucius once and for all that the old ways were just that… old and surpassed.

They belonged to a past he was looking forward to forgetting.

* * *

The odd group was joined by Theodore and Hermione approximately twenty minutes later, but the witch left as soon as she had exchanged enough pleasantries.

The pair of siblings had just finished discussing the man's engagement for the tenth time that week. It was a topic that Hermione brought up any chance she had, and though her brother understood her reasoning to perfection, he'd even admitted that he'd probably go mad if he knew she was doing something like that herself, but he'd also told her sister to ultimately mind her own business: how to break up with his fake girlfriend was up to him and the constant nagging was no longer appreciated.

Hermione had nodded, excused herself as soon as possible and pretended she wasn't hurt.

She knew he hadn't meant to, she knew she could be a little _oppressive_ sometimes, but just as she'd told Pansy over dinner, she really wished he could start living his own life and, possibly, find someone to fall in love with.

She hadn't missed the looks he kept sharing with Luna whenever the two were in the same room, and she knew about the museum trip they'd scheduled for the following morning, which she counted as a date.

Besides, she knew he hadn't been completely honest about his past with Lauren Sterne, the woman he had fancied for a long period of time but had ended up in Blaise's bed instead of her brother's.

He was asking for space, for a chance to sort his life out on his own, something he'd been dreaming of since he'd fled home during the war, at least according to the memories and personal feelings he'd shared with her during the many occasions they'd sit down and talked for hours when they were on their two-weeks trip around the world.

Hermione was still going over their argument in her head when she finally reached the small stand where Mr. Lovegood had set up an exposition of exotic magical creatures whose existence he'd proven inside small reproductions of their natural habitat.

There was a sign that re-assured the visitors of the fact each and every exemplar would have been returned to its home at the end of the festival, while next to it stood a rectangular, wooden box that was supposed to gather the donations necessary to finance the man's next trip to Mongolia, where the last sighting of a species he was studying had occurred.

She made a mental note to send him a check.

Xenophilius was talking to Draco, who was insisting with the man for him to take the bag of Galleons he was offering. Meanwhile, he was trying to prevent Adhara, who was sitting in a baby carrier that hang from the man's chest, to release herself from the safety belt that kept her in place.

The toddler was extending her chubby little arms in the direction of a glass case that contained a small creature the witch had never seen before, probably one of those weird animals with impossible names Luna always ranted about.

"Hermione!", the man said, excitedly. "How nice for you to stop by!"

During the endless row of funerals that had followed the war, the wizard had managed to isolate the Golden Trio and given them his honest apologies: Luna's life was worth more than anything in the world to him, even Voldemort's demise.

They were selfish reasons, but all of them could think of at least one person they would have applied the same type of logic to, so they'd brushed it off, and helped the man clean his conscience.

It looked like their investment was paying off, after all: Xenophilius Lovegood was helping the world bettering itself with his research and discoveries, so Hermione made a second mental note, to remind herself to be generous when writing that check.

"Mr. Lovegood, it's lovely to see you, too", she greeted, smiling sweetly, but her eyes soon shifted over Draco's frame, which she dared anyone to find less interesting than the old man's. "I was wondering if we could talk?", she improvised, hoping Malfoy was clever enough to pick up on her little white lie.

"Are you sure you don't want to check out the Snargles?", Xenophilius inquired.

Hermione shook her head, then smiled more brightly. "It's rather urgent, you see".

She happened to be a very good actress when she put her mind to it, and they were on their way back to the rest of the group within the next minute.

With the long hair framing the beautiful features and the deep blue shirt enhancing his grey eyes, the man looked positively edible.

"I think you're missing a major family moment", she supplied as an explanation, purposefully leaving out her more selfish reason for fetching him personally. "Andromeda is introducing Teddy to your parents".

"Thanks for calling me, then. My father and my aunt meeting face to face for the first time in over two decades is something I don't want to miss", he chuckled, sincerely amused by the perspective of the Malfoy patriarch being scolded by his sister-in-law.

"He kissed her hand, apparently it's a big deal", Hermione added. "Maybe Purebloods have a fetish with hands in general. I met my uncle tonight and he wouldn't leave my hand alone".

"It's not a fetish", he smirked. "But touching someone's hands is considered very intimate by the more conservative. Back in the day magic used to be done without wands, and even though memories of that kind of art have been long gone, wizards still tend to keep their hands… well, private. It's why traditional wizarding robes usually contain a pair of gloves even if they've been designed specifically for the summer".

"So, your father kissing Andromeda's hand means they're close?"

"It means he publicly stands by her side and her family's. Knowing Lucius, I must say I haven't seen this coming", Draco mused, careful not to sound too bitter as he addressed Adhara's beloved grandfather in his granddaughter's presence. "He says he's changed, but when it comes to him I don't know if _changed_ will ever suffice".

"He did look happy to see me", the witch said. "Mr. Greengrass, I mean", she added when his eyes threatened to fell out of his face because of how wide open they became.

"He probably was, Euripides is not a bad man. He's probably thrilled to have a niece to spoil, especially considering your resemblance with your mother, the little sister he happened to love very much".

"How do you know all this stuff about my family?", she asked.

"That's what young Pureblood children do, they study the lives of the Purebloods who lived before them, in the hope none of them will break the circle", Draco replied, seriously. "I, umh- _I've been to her funeral_. The poor man was devastated".

"I think you're doing a pretty good job in breaking the circle, Malfoy", she murmured, quietly, not sure if she was supposed to expose her ideas or keep her thoughts to herself.

It hadn't worked out so well with her brother, after all.

"Are you done beating around the bush?", Draco asked, effectively making the decision for her. Apparently, he was looking at the various stands Adhara forced him to stop in front of, but as they walked he proved himself more focused on the conversation he was having with the witch than she thought. "What's bothering you?"

"It's not a big deal…", she tried, but the wizard interrupted her again.

"It's a big deal to you, _obviously_ ", he chuckled. "Has Pansy got your knickers in a twist again? Because I'll gladly untwist them if you need me to", he added, whispering the last words in her left ear.

The witch did the best she could to hide the shiver that ran down her spine, opting for openly scolding Draco instead, accelerating so that she could surpass him of a few steps, actively leading the way.

Hermione stopped Draco when she spotted Theo's familiar frame and the Malfoys unmistakable hair. "Pansy has nothing to do with my foul mood, for once. It's Theo".

If she wanted to trust the man with her current feelings and thoughts, this was the last chance she had, soon they would have joined the rest of the group and the woman was ready to plaster her best fake smile on her face.

It wasn't fair to ruin everybody's evening because she was pissed off.

"What about Theo?", the man asked, suddenly more serious. "Did something happen to him?"

Her expression softened when she captured the genuine concern that permeated his voice, but she quickly shook her head. "Nothing happened to him", she reassured him. "It's his stupid engagement that it's _still_ happening".

"I told him you wouldn't drop it", Draco said. "Give him some time… and _faith_. Theodore is not stupid, soon enough he'll understand this farce has to stop before it gets too deep".

"Hasn't it, already? Euripides and his insufferable wife seemed pretty convinced there will be a wedding to me", she confessed. "I'm sorry Daphne has to go through of all this mess, but I wish she didn't drag Theo in it. He's been through a lot".

"It won't happen. Worst case scenario, you and I stand up when the celebrant asks if someone is opposed to the union. Trust me, it won't come to that".

What Draco had just said was very similar to what her brother had told her himself, but her mind wasn't clouded by her feelings right now, and she was able to put things on perspective.

She _obviously_ wasn't going to stop meddling, she cared too much about Theodore's happiness to just let history takes its course; perhaps, she'd just chosen the wrong target, perhaps Daphne was easier to _break_. "I guess we'll just have to wait and see", she smirked, her mood suddenly lifted by a new plan to design that required her attention.

Malfoy looked on the edge of asking her a question, as if he'd figured out exactly what she had just thought, but Adhara's giggle cut him off.

"I want to go there, daddy!", she announced, pointing her finger to the booth where a new brand of magical makeup exposed their products, giving customers the opportunity to try them on.

Many witches were there with their daughters, a couple even with their sons, applying the treatment to their offspring or offering their faces as blank canvas.

Draco had no problem in being the only father in the stand and he was ready to have his face painted by Adhara, but apparently the child had no interest in making him look like a clown.

Under normal circumstances he'd have considered himself lucky for the great consideration his daughter had for him, but right now he just felt completely useless.

There weren't many moments he really stopped and felt the absence of Adhara's mother wash all over him, but when it happened it always succeeded in ruining his day. Sometimes, even his week.

"Can we go, daddy, please?", she asked, her voice slightly less excited.

Draco lowered his eyes, ready to come up with an excuse not to stop by the makeup stand, but the hopeful look in her eyes made him rethink his actions.

"What if we go find your grandmother, sweetheart? Your daddy doesn't know how to do makeup, I don't want to ruin your pretty face", he said, kissing the toddler's little nose with affection after pronouncing the final words of his sentence.

"I'm pretty good with makeup", Hermione prompted.

She didn't know why she had made the offer, but she'd noticed the difficult position he was finding himself in: for the little she'd been able to witness, Draco was an amazing father to his daughter, affectionate and caring like she could have never guessed, but he was alone in raising said daughter, so despite the fact they weren't many, there were still things he could have used the help of Adhara's mother to deal with.

"Are you sure?", he asked, biting his lip.

She didn't want Hermione to feel _obligated_ towards his child, she owed him nothing after all, but he appreciated the gesture nonetheless.

He just needed to figure out what intention was behind it.

"You go find your parents, Adhara and I will join you as soon as we're done getting this princess ready for her throne", she reassured him.

The smile on her lips was so wide and sweet, he immediately felt the need to kiss it.

He pulled Adhara out of the baby carrier, instead, carefully placing the toddler in the witch's arms, releasing his grip only when he considered her hold strong enough.

It was clear she wasn't used to carry an infant, however the image in front of him was one he could have looked at for hours.

Two girls side by side, taking his breath away.

"I'll wait for you two, then", he said, then narrowed his eyes at the crowded street behind his back. "Where did you say they were?"

"In front of Fortescue's, but on the opposite side of the road. Call Pansy if you can't find them", she instructed, then tightened her grip on Adhara's waist, who on her part had put both her arms around her neck.

"See you later, daddy!", Adhara chuckled, waving one hand in Draco's direction.

Her attention was soon captured by the different products the owner of the stand begun to show the pair, which he assumed was a necessary step for the actual trial, and after he made sure the two were perfectly fine, the former Slytherin turned on his heels and started looking for his parents.

* * *

Draco had to call Pansy in the end, as the group had moved near the temporary stage that had been built in occasion of the Summer Festival.

After reassuring Lucius and Narcissa of their granddaughter's well-being, the couple bid their goodbye and continued their tour of the stands, promising to be by his side for when the Minister would have made his speech at 10 o'clock.

Andromeda left shortly after his sister, looking for a place to buy Teddy some dinner, and Harry and Pansy joined, so that only Theodore was left.

"Whatever you said to your sister, she wasn't happy", he murmured.

"I bet she wasn't. I wasn't nice to her", Theo sighed. "It's like you said. She wouldn't _fucking_ drop it".

"Can you blame her? I already told you what I think about this entire situation and you know I don't like repeating myself", he scolded, doing nothing to hide his sneer. "But you shouldn't have let things progress this much, mate".

"And you seriously believe _I don't know that_ , Draco?", Nott retorted, bitterly. "I want this mess sorted out more than anybody else, but I don't want to drag my sister into it. As soon as my legal team is done looking at the papers, I'm calling off this stupid engagement".

"Let's hope your legal team deserves the money you pay for it, shall we?"

"I'm deadly serious, mate. Don't push it", he warned. "I think I should probably go looking for Daphne and my uncles now. I'll talk to you later", he said, then left without giving Draco a chance to answer.

"Hey, what was that about?", called a voice from behind.

"We had an argument about his engagement, too", he said with a smirk, turning around when he recognized the voice.

"I'm the _Queen of Fairies_ , daddy!"

Hermione was walking in his direction at a slow pace, with Adhara in her arms, but now she looked like she'd taken an advanced course in parenting, because there was nothing wrong in her posture or the toddler's as she carried her. _On high heels_.

When she arrived, Draco picked up the toddler, then took a minute to drink in the appearance of both: Adhara had minimal make-up on the eyes and lips, just a shimmery eyeshadow that enhanced the blue eyes and some clear lip-gloss, and he mentally thanked her for not putting red lipstick on his three years old child.

Most of her efforts had been focused on realizing a very detailed reproduction of a butterfly entirely made of glitters on her left cheek, while the upper part of her forehead, where it joined her hairline, was decorated by a hand-painted crown of flowers.

"You are very beautiful, love", he whispered in her ear, closing his eyes and letting his daughter's giggles wash away the anger he'd been feeling during his discussion with Theodore.

It looked like Hermione was right to be concerned, after all, as the problem became more and more twisted anytime he managed to approach the subject with his best friend.

"Thank you", he mouthed in the witch's direction, who was staring at them with yet another one of her cruelly beautiful smiles.

Draco was feeling the urge of touching her and he hated how he wasn't able ( _allowed? Capable?_ ) to do just that.

"You're very welcome", she replied, and her smile now reached her eyes, too. "I had a great time with her", she added, her blue stones caressing the small frame of the child for a second before crashing back into his.

"I'm glad to hear that", he admitted, smiling back.

The current events seemed to be going in a positive direction, but he couldn't suppress the idea scratching at the back of his mind: something bad was about to happen.

The crowd was too still, too silent for his taste.

Then Hermione's phone started ringing and the beautiful shadow of happiness left her lips as her smile turned into a grimace. " _Hello? Theo?_ "

Kingsley Shacklebolt, Minister of Magic, chose that moment to enter the stage, and immediately witches and wizards from all over the United Kingdom were clapping their hands. Some were whistling and yelling insults, but the majority of them thought of him as a fair man with an enviable ethic and were willing to provide their support.

" _Hermione? Can you hear me? There's been an… accident. Daphne's been attacked. Meet me at St. Mungo's as soon as you can, please. I've got to go_ ".

He dropped the phone-call, and in that moment the applause stopped to allow the politician to begin his speech.

A scream ripped through the hair as the _Dark Mark_ appeared in the sky.

" _ **We are back** ", _announced a female voice, " ** _And we want blood_** ".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
...and we end this chapter with a BANG!, I'd say.  
I feel very guilty for slowing down my updates so much,  
so I decided to update twice this week.

Hope you enjoyed the surprise. :))

p.s. there's a new poll in my bio, in case you're interested.


	15. OFFENCE

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **15.**

 **OFFENCE**

.

" ___allow me to pick up where I left off, the biggest phenomenon  
and I'm Picasso with the pen, n****s always talk shit  
until I hit them with the realness, figured I should say some'  
but you don't wanna hear me vent, you can talk bad all day long I  
will never be impressed, dunno what I did to make you feel  
that you be earnin' my respect ___"

* * *

 ** _St. Mungo's for Magical Maladies and Injuries, September 17th, 2003_**

After the savage attack she'd suffered during the Summer Festival, Daphne Greengrass had been placed in a private room of London's wizarding hospital, St. Mungo's: she was on the fourth floor, where damages caused by spells were treated.

The healers still weren't sure what curse had been used on the girl: it looked like a mixture between _Sectusempra_ and _Cruciatus_ and it had done a horrifying amount of harm, to both her body and mind.

The Aurors believed the accident to be strictly connected to the apparition of the Dark Mark, especially five years after the fall of the wizard it symbolized.

But Voldemort was gone, this time for good, and many wizards and witches preferred to think of the dark times as something that belonged strictly to the past, something that couldn't be repeated.

Then there were people like Hermione, who thought this way of reasoning could only lead to disaster, as it had been the first time around, when the wizarding society had tried to forget about Tom Riddle just as fast.

The woman's stilettos produced a comforting, monotonous click on the white, lucid floor as she strolled down the corridor, a gorgeous bouquet of seasonal flowers in her hand and an amicable expression plastered on her face.

After an entire month of hospital stay, an event that was rather rare in wizarding medicine, as it tended to provide the desired healing effects much faster than its muggle counterpart, Daphne was about to be allowed to return home.

Following the attack, the blonde Slytherin had remained in a magical induced coma for almost a week, as the team of healers made sure no permanent damage had been done to the witch.

Besides the collateral effects of the unknown spell, the girl had also been stabbed repeatedly with a knife or blade of some sort, a detail that had puzzled both the healers and the DMLE, who hadn't witnessed such viciousness in five long years of peace.

The same detail had convinced the Aurors they were dealing with Death Eaters, but they couldn't tell if it was the doing of a new group of fanatics just yet, or if it was the work of the few dark wizards who had managed to escape at the end of the second war.

Hermione had visited room forty-four on a number of occasions: the night of the Summer Festival, right after Theodore's phone-call, and once a day for the entire week Daphne had been unconscious.

She'd kept her cousin company, reading her articles from what Astoria had assured her were her favourite magazines, bringing a fresh bouquet of flower each morning around nine.

The witch had woken up around lunch, in her eighth day of recovery, and after an awkward, silence-filled visit that was soon interrupted by Mr. and Mrs. Greengrass' arrivals, Hermione had resorted to a weekly visit on Saturday mornings, when the old witch had her scheduled meeting with the _Pureblood Tea Society_ she was co-director of.

The former Gryffindor happened to be extremely unnerved anytime she found herself in the presence of the woman, her instantly dislike for her growing harder and stronger at every new encounter, so she'd been glad to arrange her plans to the morning so that she could avoid meeting her.

Or until late in the evening, at least, because the Nott siblings had been formally invited for dinner at Greengrass Manor with the excuse of a small soirée that was meant to celebrate Daphne's rehabilitation.

It was one big joke to Hermione, as she'd soon realized everything the unpleasant witch did was about herself, but social etiquette had prevented her from refusing.

That, and Theodore begging her to come and give him her support, as that was the night he'd decided for finally breaking off the engagement.

She was genuinely pleased with the turn things were taking, especially in her private life: she'd been _seeing_ Draco for a month now, and she still wasn't... _bored_.

It was an absolute game-changer, according to Pansy, who was still the only person to know about the fact they were, well, _dating_.

Or at least, that's what they were going to do, starting tomorrow.

Hermione had lost count (perhaps she'd just stopped counting at all) of the number of occasions they pair had fallen together into bed, and she regretted none, but at some point she'd been hit by the realization that, besides from talking and spending time together at her apartment, she and Draco had never went out together.

They'd spend some time in each other's company at the Festival, that was true, but always in the company of his daughter, Theo and Mr. Lovegood, and only for a short period of time.

Strangely enough, it had been Draco to bring up the subject, as she'd been afraid to complicate things too much by asking him to define their relationship.

They had reached the point where she would normally fly away from any other _casual_ partner, but as she'd confided to Pansy, she still wasn't bored.

It was a game-changer for her, too.

The witch checked her appearance in the hand-mirror she kept in her shoulder-bag, meticulously re-applying the very bright, very red lipstick.

It was one of her favourite shades and formulas, and on top of that she found the name of the shade, _LadyBalls_ [1], completely hilarious.

Hermione was about to knock on the door when it swung open, revealing Idabelle Greengrass as she openly scolded her daughter on her way out.

"Please make sure not mess up as you sign the papers, _darling_. I'm looking forward to have you back home", the woman cooed, her two-piece set of yellow wizarding robes clashing dangerously with the blonde of her hair. "I must leave now, I'm far too late already", she added, then turned towards the door so that she could leave.

"I'll see you this evening, _niece_ ", she said, coldly, barely acknowledging Hermione's presence before walking her way to the elevator as her hips bounced in a very unnatural manner.

The witch closed her eyes and inhaled deeply and slowly, giving a shot to a breathing technique she had discovered about on one of the papers she'd been reading to her cousin, and half a minute later she was free from the nuisance.

"Hello, Daphne", she greeted, hurrying her steps to the chair she usually sat on during her visits as soon as she was done changing the flowers on her nightstand. "How are you feeling today?"

"It could be worse, I suppose. I still can't feel my left hand completely, but I've made enough progress to return home, according to Healer Matthews", the other replied, politely, but there was a coldness in her voice which Hermione wasn't exactly used to, not on the receiving end of the bargain.

"Let me know if you've changed your mind about that specialist I've talked to you about", she pointed out, bringing up their last conversation.

She'd insisted quite a lot for Daphne to be visited by one of the doctors from the medical team that worked on some of MagiTech's most secret and advanced developing laboratories, but the girl had kept refusing.

The requirements for joining the experimental group of pioneers were extremely high, double degrees from both muggle university and wizarding healing school, and at least one main discovery in the medical field; the scientific study of human anatomy and the nearly endless possibilities of magic combined with the illustrious, carefully selected minds behind the project, made them some of the best doctors in the world, whose primary task was to search cures for new, highly transmissible and dangerous diseases.

"I'm afraid I haven't", Daphne admitted. "The healers here are doing an amazing job, there's no need for you to bring someone here from Australia".

"As you wish", Hermione said, pursing her lips, the gears in her mind working furiously to find a way to keep the conversation going. "What do you think I should wear for tonight's dinner?"

Maybe it wasn't a very subtle way of bringing up the subject she wished to discuss, but it worked flawlessly, the blonde witch's smile quickly turning into a flat line.

"What you're wearing now should do it, just make sure to look good, I'm sure that's what you want for the moment you finally get what you want. Tonight's the night you win, _Eloise_ ".

At first, Hermione dumbly looked at the simple white sundress she was wearing for her morning strolls, instantly disregarding the idea of keeping it for dinner.

She was sure her aunt would have enjoyed nothing more than the occasion to make another nasty comment about her physical appearance: for some odd reason, she seemed incredibly keen on doing so; Hermione couldn't figure out why, yet, but this far the older witch hadn't succeeded in undermining her self-esteem.

Only after a minute of awkward silence Hermione came up with what she thought were the right words to approach her cousin's obvious animosity.

"I never told you to call me that", she said, sharply.

"Maybe it's time we both face reality, don't you think?"

"I assume Theo has talked to you about his intentions, then".

Daphne nodded, and smile flashed so quickly on her face that she wasn't sure she had really seen it. "He did. I really am sorry for what I've put him through".

"I was hoping you would be, to be honest", Hermione admitted, her tone emotionless. "This way I have proof both my cousins do have a heart", she added, smirking. "I never meant to be such a thorn in your side, Daphne, I swear, but…"

"But I was the thorn on Theodore's", the blonde finished for her. "I get that. I'm just glad soon enough all of this will be over with and he will be free from my chains".

"You'll be free, too. That's the whole point of coming clean! For the two of you to finally start living your lives, like it should have been during the two years you guys have been engaged".

"Yeah, I'm sure that's exactly what's going to happen", the former Slytherin scoffed, but soon recomposed herself. "I think you should go now, the healer will be back soon for the final tests and soon after that my mother will probably return. I'll see you tonight".

Daphne wasn't giving her many openings for further discussion of the topic, but Hermione could be as stubborn as hell when she wanted to. "What kind of leverage does she has on you? Why your father hasn't stopped her already?"

"Go, cousin. I need to rest".

* * *

Hermione had tried very hard to push her conversation with Daphne to the back of her mind for a later examination, but bits and pieces of the few words they'd shared kept popping back.

She was distracted even now, as the man she was dating pressed steamy kisses on the back of her neck, just underneath her hairline, right on top of the sweet spot that could make her curl her toes.

In a swift gesture her dress had been lowered down her shoulders with the help of the thin straps meant to keep it in place, which Draco grabbed between his fingertips and dragged slowly across her skin.

The white piece of fabric was now sitting in a pool at her knees: one minute she was internally gushing for the improvised take away lunch he'd presented himself with, bluntly confessing he didn't want to wait for their date tomorrow to see her, the next she was sitting on her sofa with a gorgeous wizard who wanted nothing more than to pleasure her, wearing only her red, satin underwear.

Her collection of lingerie had started as a joke, something other than books to spend her money on once all primary necessities were taken care of; as she'd become richer, and then one of the richest women (people) alive, her selection had started to grow.

Over the years and with a lot of help from Pansy, its dimensions had become ridiculous: men, however, seemed to appreciate her little quirk, and Draco Malfoy wasn't different.

Not that she minded that, of course, as the actions some of her more _daring pieces_ could inspire in him were very much welcome.

"I can _hear_ you thinking, Granger".

He'd whispered the words in her ear, gently biting her lobe afterwards, and just when she was starting to relax he'd decided to notice she was distracted.

"That's preposterous. You can't hear someone thinking, Malfoy", she said, unapologetically rolling her eyes. "Sorry", she added, turning slightly so that she could face him. "My brother is going to be a free man, tonight, if anything goes according to plan".

"What if it doesn't?"

"I have a plan B… and a plan C. I know he doesn't want me to intrude, but I won't let him ruin his life. I'll fix this problem for him if it's necessary. He'll have time to hate me later", she confessed. "Though I'm terrified something like that will happen".

She must have really looked like a real mess, because Draco assumed the comforting expression she'd seen him use with daughter, _again_.

Hermione didn't know if she was supposed to be flattered or offended, so she opted for none, and gave him enough room to say his piece, something she'd discovered she happened to rarely forget.

That was probably what she liked the most about the man, the reason why she'd said yes when he had asked her on a proper date: how he could make her talk for literal hours with no cognition of time or space whatsoever, like she was constantly, utterly high just because of his mere presence.

"If you have a plan B and a plan C, then what are you afraid of? Regardless of what happens tonight, Theodore could never hate you. He's fought too hard to have you back in his life. Trust me, I was with him every step of the way".

"Can I ask you a question?", she blurted out, and in a last sparkle of lucidity she realized Draco had managed to eventually divert her attention from her conversation with Daphne: her priorities were suddenly changed and all she could think of was making the man physically _hers_.

The fact he hadn't stopped caressing her body, following every curve and walking over every inch of skin with his hands, did play a part in her change of demeanor.

"Sure", he nodded. "Spit it out".

"What did you think when he told you I'm his sister? The first thing and, please, be honest".

She had now completely turned, her almost exposed cleavage facing the man, who didn't miss on the opportunity of taking a quick peek, and she was looking straight into his eyes.

Hermione hadn't thought about how much she needed to hear his answer until she hadn't pronounced her question: now she was dying to know.

"The first thing?", he checked with a smirk.

She gingerly nodded her head.

"The first thing was one big, giant…", he started. " _Fuck me_ ".

" _Fuck me?_ ", she repeated, sceptically.

"It'll be my pleasure", he drawled, then brought his head very close to hers.

"It's a serious question, Draco", she murmured.

"And that was my serious answer, Hermione", the wizard admitted. " _Fuck me_ was the most accurate way to express my feelings in that moment".

The witch knew she could dig deeper, and she wanted to, but the clock pinned on the wall behind them reminded her it was already four p.m. in the afternoon, and she barely had an hour before she would have had to start getting ready for Idabelle's soirée.

"What about now?", she prompted, covering the small space between their faces. Their lips were now brushing against each other, but she kept hers still: she wasn't going to kiss him _yet_.

"I'll show you rather than tell you", he offered, but when he leaned on ,she slightly turned her head on one side, and his kiss missed her mouth.

Unimpressed with her little game of hide and seek, he forgot about kissing and savoured the skin of her neck with lips, teeth and tongue, moving further down to her collarbone, his hands providing exceptional aid by drawing the contours of her body.

Hermione was rapidly reduced to a quivering mess, so as Draco tried to reunite the efforts of his hands with those of his mouth, using her bosom as the meeting point, the witch had lost all willingness to talk: there were way funnier activities they could partake in.

Her left hand reached up to tug at the silky blond hair, she _loved_ just how softly they flowed through her fingertips, while the other produced lazy circles on the skin of his abdomen, her nails scratching ever-so-slightly over the trim of his dark blue jeans.

She suspected the muggle designer attire he wore in his free time helped turning her on just as much as her lingerie choices seemed to always get the best of him.

It was like he was ready to take pictures for a magazine all the time: even those times he'd fallen asleep _after_ , which weren't many, unfortunately, as he had a small child to return to and take care of, he just looked perfectly handsome… and ready (capable) to shag her thoroughly.

As tiring as that could be for her hormones, she never felt the need to miss on an opportunity before and she wasn't going to start today.

Eventually, Hermione kissed him on the mouth, tightening her grip on his hair, which he was keeping at shoulders length, biting his lower lip to gain faster access to his tongue.

Her whole body was now pressed on top of his, as she'd purposefully applied some pressure to have him lying down on his back, but when Draco tried to move his hands again, this time on her bum, where he planned to keep them for a while, she grabbed them both with hers, pinning them on top of his head.

She knew he could reverse their position in a matter of seconds, his frame being much bigger and stronger than hers, but she also knew that he didn't mind giving up some _control_ to her.

" _Let me take care of you now, won't you?_ "

* * *

Forty-five minutes later the pair was resting on the sofa, fully naked if not for her panties and his boxers, embracing each other in companionable silence.

Both were people you wouldn't expect to be cuddlers, but they enjoyed performing the activity nonetheless, they just usually never mentioned it out loud.

It helped with keeping the _balance_.

With a sigh, Hermione was the first to pull away from the hug. "I'm supposed to get ready for the stupid party", she groaned. "I'm so _not-in-the-mood_ for my aunt and her theatrics".

"What are you in the mood for?", Draco asked with a smirk.

He tried to prevent her from stealing his Metallica's t-shirt, but the witch was faster and more determined, and was standing in front of the sofa, the fabric wrapped snugly around her body, in a matter of seconds.

"What I'm in the mood for or not is of no importance, unfortunately. Get dressed, I'll make some coffee", she announced, then left for the penthouse's kitchen.

As she walked the marble floor, the memory of the day she'd discovered about their mutual love for the beverage popped back into her mind and when Draco joined her, five minutes later, the coffee already fuming in the porcelain espresso-cups, she still had a silly smile on her lips because of it.

"It'll be fine, you know? Dinner tonight", he said, sitting at one of the bar stools she kept in front of the kitchen's island.

He had put clothes back on but closed the flannel shirt instead of waiting for her to give him the t-shirt back and tidied his hair in a low man-bun.

"I'd rather accept your mother's invitation, to be honest", she admitted, slowly sipping on her coffee. "Dinner last month was… fine, I guess?"

"I'm afraid that offer is not on the table anymore", he chuckled, emptying his cup and placing it back on the island counter. He drunk his coffee so quickly the tip of his tongue was often bruised. "Do not worry, though. Mrs. Greengrass has invited us, too. Besides, with both her godchildren being absent there would have been no reason for her to fuss over a simple family meal".

"How is that supposed to not make me feel guilty?"

"Seriously, don't. She loves an occasion to wear a fancy dress, and as repentant as she is, I know she misses being socially involved. She used to be very busy when I was little", he shared, then stood abruptly from his seat, hands checking the pockets of his jeans to make sure he'd taken everything of importance. Wallet, keys, telephone, his camera. "Speaking of which, I should go too, now. Mother takes an extremely long time to get ready for parties, and someone must watch over Adhara. I'll see you tonight".

Then he did something that surprised her, leaning in and placing a mouth-closed kiss that lingered on her lips even after he left.

Hermione usually avoided the whole goodbye situation, finding something to keep herself busy, to justify the fact she casually wouldn't look at him: she had no idea which exactly was supposed to be the best way to greet him, nor did she want to ask.

But now Draco had made a move and she was pleasantly surprised by it: she'd decided to give _whatever_ was going on between them a shot, and now she was ripping what she'd sowed.

A wide grin emerged from behind the cup when she finished her coffee, standing all alone in the kitchen of his London apartment: Hermione couldn't be sure of what the future held for the two of them, if they even _had_ one, but since she felt determined to see where the journey would have brought her, she'd chosen to also enjoy the ride.

* * *

Idabelle's dinner party was taking place at Greengrass Manor, of course.

All corners of the mansion had been dusted and the silverware polished, the dining room decorated like it was Daphne's wedding instead of a small celebration for the improvement of her medical conditions after the attack.

Theodore walked the main door with his sister on his arm and cringed at the first words he heard; they came from no one less than the current Lady of House Greengrass.

"That would be the groom, Cordelia", she was saying, an amicable smile plastered on her face as slimy, nasty eyes scanned the room.

Theo let out a sigh when she placed them on the witch on his side, narrowed and sharp, and bowed his head in the direction of the witch, acknowledging her presence and therefore preventing her from staring with such contempt at his sister any longer.

"I'm sorry I've been such a _jerk_ ", he muttered, careful to keep his voice down and therefore their conversation private. "Hopefully, by the end of this dinner all this mess will belong to the past".

Hermione's _poker-face_ faltered a little, but soon enough she regained her composure.

Tonight's party wasn't very different from the galas she'd attended to in the past, or her meetings with MagiTech's sneaky shareholders: she needed all the cunning a Gryffindor like her could stomach, and that, luckily, was a lot.

"The guest-list feels a little weird", she whispered back, making sure to beam at her uncle, who was approaching the pair followed by his daughters.

Theo shook the man's hand and formally thanked him for the invitation, and as he listened to a long lecture on how he wasn't supposed to be so uptight in the presence of his only uncle and future father-in-law, Hermione first hugged Astoria, then kissed Daphne on both cheeks.

"I see you followed my advice about the dress code", the blonde pointed out, eyeing the muggle designer piece she was wearing for the night.

Her off-the-shoulder bodycon dress was a deep shade of crimson red, with thin straps and a deep v neckline, and each trim of fabric had lace details sewed on top of it.

The form-fitting skirt had a decent length and her gown covered enough skin to be considered formal, though dangerously bold.

"And I've noticed you're wearing one of Pansy's creations", she replied, returning the visual inspection with the same flavour of cold kindness. "Good evening, uncle", she added, turning her head in his direction and leaning forward to lightly kiss him on the cheeks, too. "It's nice to meet on less tragic circumstances".

"Of course, my dear. I hope you were able to reach my humble home without any inconveniences", Euriphides said.

Hermione struggled not to laugh in his face, as there was nothing even _modest_ in their surroundings, from the expensive furniture to the fancy buffet, but managed to hide her sneer behind a flute of champagne when one of the Elves passed them by, carrying a tray of half-filled glasses in his hands.

"They're dressed", she pointed out, casually, admiring the nice, clean uniform all the creatures gathered in the room as waiters were wearing.

She'd expected the exploitation of House-Elves, of course, as it was good custom for any Pureblood family, but to see them fully clothed was a nice surprise.

"I know it's kind of unconventional", he started. "But after reading that book I couldn't let myself be a part of a practice as barbaric as slavery. The Manor's Elves were all given the choice to either leave or becoming paid employees. I'm pleased to say the majority of them decided to stay with our family, I don't know how we could run this place without their help".

"That's a rather interesting point of view, uncle", she murmured, a small smile on her face.

She knew he'd probably freed his Elves just so that he could clean his conscience: but as she delved deeper into the customs of Pureblood circles, the witch was starting to realize her uncle's ability of feeling guilty was, apparently, enough to classify him as one of the good guys, which spoke volumes about the others.

Even Lucius Malfoy, who was just now entering the dining room, looked like an innocent angel when compared to what remained of the guest-list.

The reason the party had been organized and the people who had been invited quite puzzled the witch, there were no connections between the two: as the evening was meant to celebrate Daphne's recovery, one would have expected her friends and family to attend, but besides from the Nott siblings and his family, the only person who had a reason to be there was Draco, though their friendship had always been more circumstantial than anything else.

Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy's presence made no sense, as Idabelle had been one of the witches who had stood by and did nothing when Narcissa was being humiliated by the tea-room's owner in Diagon Alley, while Lucius had just recently pledged himself as a sympathizer of blood-traitors by publicly interacting with Andromeda.

There was a couple formed by a wizard and a witch around the same age of Draco's parents, whom were going to be properly introduced to her later as Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson.

Then her eyes found the cherry on top of the cake she so desperately did not want to eat: Rita Skeeter had been invited, too.

Her personal lackey, Dennis Creevey, seemed to have deserted her for the night; hopefully, he'd listened to her advice to severe his ties to the woman, as the journalist was living on _borrowed time_ : her threat had been much subtler, of course, but, apparently, she'd been able to touch the man's right strings.

He didn't need the deceitful harpy to make a name for himself.

The table, however, had been set up for thirteen people, and when everyone occupied its place, with Hermione and Theodore sitting as far as possible from each other, she found herself looking at the empty spot.

"We'll be joined by a dear friend of mine, later. For the _dessert_ ", Idabelle cooed with a sweet tone so fake she wished she could drown her in the soup the Elves were currently serving. She just needed to think about it with enough intensity for her magic to make it happen. "He lives in another continent and sadly he was forced to postpone his Port-Key because of a business problem".

"There are more important matters, my dear", Euriphides interrupted her. He hadn't been informed about the thirteenth guest invited to dinner, but he was determined to stop whatever his wife was up to before she could even start. "Such as our beautiful daughter surviving her coward attacker. You've been given a second chance, darling, and Merlin knows I'll never be grateful enough to him for making that happen".

From Hermione's perspective, all credit was supposed to be given to the healers at St. Mungo's, but it was rather refreshing to assist to such a display of faith for once; instead of plotting a bloodbath to right the original wrong, Mr. Greengrass was thankful his daughter was still alive, and seemed to be planning on moving forward from the unlucky accident she'd been a victim of rather than to seek vengeance.

For some reason he looked proud, too, like surviving had been an effort, or a choice, in Daphne's part rather than a primal instinct.

From the blush on her cheeks and the way she purposefully avoided eye contact with him, Hermione could tell her cousin thought she wasn't worthy of such a sentiment.

"Our Daphne is as good as new", Idabelle said with a tight smile. "And ready to start planning her wedding, my _dear_ guests".

"Charming", Lucius sneered. On the outside he looked perfectly bored, but it only took a deeper look to realize he found the Greengrass matriarch nauseating and he was currently wishing to be anywhere else in the world. "Let's hope the Aurors will catch that savage soon enough, I don't know what I would do if such fate should happen to my Narcissa".

"I agree, Lucius", prompted Mr. Parkinson. "It's a shame those fools entitled with our protection are too busy living _happily ever after_ to do their job".

He didn't need to explicitly say the name for everybody in the room to understand whom he was exactly referring to: _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ (and who was now dating his disinherited daughter).

The beautiful witch who Hermione suspected being just that, good looks and nothing else, Cordelia Parkinson, grimaced in her seat next to her husband.

Before Hermione could jump in with a sneaky remark and perhaps a couple of subtle insults, Draco did it in her place.

"I'm sure the Aurors are perfectly capable of handling the situation", he scoffed, his grey eyes displaying no sign of fear or regret as he openly shamed one of his elders, something considered rather reckless according to Pureblood forms. "As for Harry Potter, I believe he'll work night and day to bring the attacker to justice: he, too, as someone to protect. _Pansy, your daughter, I'm sure you remember her?_ "

Hermione did her best not to laugh and luckily succeeded, but she didn't restrain herself from smirking in Idabelle's direction: the woman's blood was boiling with anger, her fingers were clenched tightly around the silver cutlery and she kept throwing glances at Narcissa, waiting for her to severely reprimand her son.

The Malfoy matriarch was _casually_ focused on her plate, untouched by the entire situation, and her calculated indifference convinced Idabelle to drop it.

From her strategic point of view in front of the blonde woman, however, she could see perfectly the amused smile plastered on her lips which the hostess had missed.

"Going back to the wedding, as I was saying", she chirped, interrupting the silence that had followed Draco's question.

Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson were clearly uncomfortable, outraged by his words, but after a serious look at the field they were supposed to fight on, with many people they suspected would have supported their daughter in a discussion, Howard and Cordelia opted for resentful silence.

"About that, aunt Idabelle, there's an announcement Daphne and I need to make. We were hoping for a more _reserved_ celebration tonight", Theo said, looking intently at both the couple and the journalist, whom he had no idea why had been invited. He'd jumped on his feet and now he was helping his fiancé do the same. "But we're afraid it's something that can't be delayed much longer".

The blonde cleared her throat, ready to say her piece, but Idabelle was faster.

"What's going on?", she asked, carefully patting the silk handkerchief on her mouth. "I don't quite understand, _children_ , but I must warn you, _I don't like it_ ".

"Let them talk, Ida. I'm sure it'll be nothing we haven't seen coming", Euriphides intervened. "Speak your mind, Daphne, we are listening".

The witch smiled at her father, savouring the peaceful look in his eyes as she feared that could have been the last time he would have seen it directed at her.

"Father, Mother, there won't be a wedding", she gingerly uttered. "Theodore and I are not getting married. Not now, not ever. We have decided to break things off".

"I'm sorry, Daphne. What? My hearing must be playing games on me", Idabelle squeaked. "The wedding _will_ happen, _darling_ ".

"Can you give me an explanation for all of this, nephew?", was all Euriphides had to ask.

Theo exchanged a long look with his sister before he addressed the man. "Of course, sir. I'll be happy to do so. Daphne and I simply have grown out of this relationship. We wish to maintain our friendship, of course, she's part of the small family I have left, but we do not wish to spend our life together. Not romantically".

"That's perfectly reasonable, I guess. We do live in modern times and you two are still very young", the older wizard mused, a twinkle in his eyes that was much different from that in his wife's. "I won't say I'm pleased not to have you permanently joining the family, but you're my sister's boy and that cannot be changed. On top of that, you were the kind of man I hoped my daughter would fall in love with. I guess I'll have to live a couple more years if I want to walk my daughter down the aisle".

"I think you guys are doing the right thing", Astoria chimed in, smiling at the two. She'd been made part of the secret years later than she would have liked, but she one-hundred percent supported their decision to stop the farce.

Theodore and Daphne sat back, with the man helping her just like before, and the two shared a knowing look before returning to their meal.

Hermione threw a glance at Rita, who was analysing the freshly broken-up couple as she knew there was something the two hadn't told; that was exactly the case, so she provided a much needed distraction.

"I'd like to make a toast", she announced, gracefully. " _All's well that ends well_ ".

* * *

From there, chaos had dawned upon the dinner party.

Idabelle had refused to toast, excusing herself and retiring to her rooms, while Euriphides had been forced to speed through the meal so that he could dismiss those guests his wife had insisted upon inviting and now left to their own devices, guests he couldn't care less off: the Parkinsons were there only because Cordelia had been friends at Hogwarts with the Greengrass matriarch, while Rita Skeeter was a decorated member of the _Pureblood Tea Society_ , the recreational club the two co-directed.

Theodore and Hermione were standing in front of the door, greeting the Malfoys, who stood after Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson were ready to take their leave; surprisingly enough, the journalist had been the first to bid her farewell.

Hermione could have played a small part in that, as she hadn't taken her eyes away from the witch for the rest of the dinner.

As soon as Lucius and Narcissa apparated away, with Draco following shortly after a whispered compliment about her outfit in Hermione's ear, Idabelle Greengrass returned to the dining room.

She was still wearing her pompous gown, but her long hair now fell in soft waves behind her back, free from the chignon she'd earlier constricted it into.

"I suppose you remember what this is", she spat, waving the document she was carrying in her hands, a victorious sparkle in her eyes.

"I do, mother", Daphne whispered, looking at the incriminating paper as there was a ghost in front of her. "How did you…?"

"I genuinely believed I taught you better than this", her mother snarled, extending her arm so that she could pick up the sheet. "As for how I put my hands back on it, you should have burned it the moment you stole it from me, darling. Not that it would have made much of a difference, am I right?"

The witch didn't answer straight away, her eyes staring at the document in her hands: it was clear she was wishing she'd destroyed it, whatever it was.

Hermione had to wait for both Astoria and Theodore to snatch the paper from Daphne and two full minutes before they were done reading it and passed it to her.

Euriphides returned in that moment with one of the best bottles in his collection: despite the announcement and how the rest of the evening had progressed from there, it was still the first time he had his niece in this room, so he wanted to save what he could.

Now that the unwanted guests were gone, there was no reason not to enjoy the remaining time.

"Are you feeling better, Idabelle?", he asked, approaching the group with a questioning look on his face.

His wife turned her head, grinning. "That's the solution to the end of our daughter's engagement, husband dearest".

"What do you mean by solution?", growled Theo, taking a step forward and covering his blonde cousin in a protective stance. "It's over, aunt Idabelle. Daphne is not getting married. Not to me, not to anybody else, for as long as she wishes for things to stay that way", he warned.

The woman froze with shock, his nostrils flickering dangerously.

"Don't you dare call me your aunt, _you little piece of Death-Eater shit_!", she snapped, cruelly. "If you want to know the truth, I'm glad you won't be the one marrying my daughter. She deserves much better than a worthless, useless wizard like yourself-".

Her voice abruptly stopped, as if she was done talking, but her lips were still moving.

She brought both her hands to her neck: her vocal cords were burning.

Her poisonous eyes set down on Hermione, who had her right arm raised in front of her, her hand clenched in a tight fist, and the look on her face left no doubts on her intentions: she was thirsty for her aunt's blood. "Isn't it much better now that you're silent?", she mocked her, bringing her elbow slightly higher, therefore intensifying her pain.

The witch unsuccessfully tried to scream.

"I'm asking myself what kind of woman could do this to her daughter", she pointed out the paper with her free hand, "But I really can't give myself a reasonable explanation. I appreciate your hospitality, uncle Euriphides", she added, addressing the man directly, "But I won't stand here and listen to this _snake_ you call a wife as she insults my brother".

"What- What is happening? Hermione? What are you doing to her?", he uttered, his eyes wide and his breath accelerated. "Would do you, please…?"

"What? Stop?", she finished for him, raising a brow. "I'm just temporarily taking her ability to speak from her, though I feel like perhaps I should make this deal more permanent".

"Hermione…", Theo called, uncertainly. He didn't want to defend the woman, but neither did he want his sister to find herself in trouble as she defended him.

"I need you to tell me the exact words you used for the Unbreakable Vow your mother forced upon you, Daphne", she stated, solemnly, ignoring his desperate attempt to stop her.

She'd stepped aside, though only officially, given him the chance to solve the problem his way, but now the waters he was sailing were unpredictable and dangerous, and she was going to take the matter on her own hands.

The blonde witch sniffed, still confused by the situation in front of her, but managed to find the words. "She- She made me swear I would accomplish a respectable marriage".

"And why would you go along with such a stupid idea, Daphne?", asked Astoria, baffled. The document stated the same and was absurd enough, she couldn't begin to imagine the reasons behind her consent to an Unbreakable Vow.

"She threatened to disinherit you", she confessed, tears pricking in the corners of her eyes. "I didn't want you to disappear into thin air like Pansy did".

"What? How…? _Merlin's balls_!", the youngest sister cried, hysterically.

"Release my wife from your spell, niece", Euriphides asked, or commanded.

Hermione couldn't really tell which one but did as she was asked; she was curious to see how Idabelle would have tried to lie her way out of the truth finally coming out, as she was growing increasingly suspicious her husband hadn't been involved in her scheming at all.

"With pleasure", she said, smiling at the older witch and releasing her wandless curse before throwing her a condescending glance. "Don't even think about it", she ordered, fixing her eyes on the woman's hand, which had travelled down her body and to the wand-pocket of her dress as soon as the pain in her throat had stopped.

"I'll tell you how we'll proceed from now on. You'll release Daphne from the Unbreakable Vow and you'll never show your face in front of me or my brother ever again, otherwise I'll make your life so miserable you'll wish I merely _ended_ you. I have more resources than you can even imagine, and the determination to finish what I begin. You won't try to control the life of your daughters and you won't force them into relationships or everything else they do not desire. Have I made myself clear?"

During her speech she'd walked closer and closer to the witch, internally delighted by the mixture of anger and fear painted on her face: her mouth was slightly open, the little fine lines that circled it more evident than ever before, her nose curled up with annoyance, the eyes wide open and frenzied.

Hermione smirked. That was the reaction she'd hoped for.

She didn't wish to actually _go on_ with her threats, but she was prepared to do so if it ended up being the only way out for Theodore and, now, Daphne too.

The brunette felt incredibly sorry for her cousin and even slightly remorseful for her previous actions: though she still couldn't understand her fully or justify her decisions, she felt like it had been rougher for her cousin than she'd believed.

Perhaps she should have been a little more morbid with her.

She couldn't begin to imagine what being raised by a woman like that could lead someone to become.

"Crystal", the woman uttered, defeated, but the way her eyes glinted with hatred told Hermione that it was far from over. "You're free, Daphne", she announced, performing the necessary unbinding spell.

Then she smiled, cruelly. "Now you can finally be the _lesbian_ you are".

"Mother!", Daphne squeaked, covering her mouth with both her hands. Now the tears were strolling down her cheeks at a fast pace. "You made me a promise!"

"And you made an Unbreakable Vow. Grow up and take responsibility for your choices. You have the freedom you desired. Deal with it", Idabelle chastised.

Daphne wasn't the kind of girl who exploded and threw a fit, so she stood where she was, frozen on her spot, feeling the earth missing from beneath her feet.

However, Astoria was a totally different matter. "You are such a _bitch_ , mother! I can't believe you would do something like that! You didn't succeed in ruining my life and you went after Daphne? What the hell is wrong with you?"

Hermione didn't really want to stay and witness the argument that seemed about to break out; yes, she'd provoked it, but only because she'd been left with no other option: Idabelle Greengrass was a bitch (Astoria's words, not hers), so she needed to be pushed out of the family picture.

She didn't have time for such nonsense, but she felt like she owed her cousin an olive branch. "I never imagined your situation at home was so… _difficult_. She had no right to force your coming out. My house is open to you if you want to put some distance between you and her. Astoria, you're welcome, too", she offered.

Idabelle waved at her husband, begging him to step in and resolve the situation, but the man looked down at her with a sneer. "There will be no need for my daughters to take advantage of your hospitality, Hermione. Idabelle will leave the Manor tonight".

"That's absurd, Euriphides. I think you should reconsider-"

"I have no intention of changing my mind. I warned you years ago when Astoria moved out because you were pressuring for a marriage with the Fawley boy. I can't believe you promised not to repeat your distasteful actions and then forced such an obligation on Daphne, threatening to do something that only myself, as Head of this House, can do. You can't disinherit my daughters".

"Haven't you heard what I just said? Your daughter likes… _women_! I never said I would have personally disinherited Astoria, I said I had the power to make _you_ wipe her away from the family tree".

"Mother, please", Daphne begged, her beautiful blue eyes now swollen and red because of her crying. Theo was rocking her in his arms, murmuring comforting words in her ear as he caressed her hair, but she seemed on the edge of collapsing.  
The events of the night had been very rough on her already fragile state, she really couldn't take much more. "If you ever loved us, please, _stop_ ".

"There's nothing she can say that can tear me away from you, girls", the wizard reassured his daughters. "I'm done being manipulated by your lies", he added, addressing his wife.

"I had an affair many years ago. Astoria is not your daughter", the witch announced, victoriously. She squirmed with pleasure at the pained expression on her husband's face, happy she'd returned him the courtesy. "Astoria is not a Greengrass".

"Astoria is more of a Greengrass than you will ever be, Idabelle. I suggest you leave the house now, or I'll make you myself", he threatened.

The truth he'd just discovered hadn't really sunk in, yet, but he wasn't going to make the big mistake of pushing his daughter away: he was the man who'd raised her, he was the man who'd given Astoria her name and her heritage.

He didn't care who her biological father was.

He wasn't there, but he, Euriphides, had been there for the entire time.

"I'll happily walk with you to the door, _auntie_ ", Hermione said, approaching the woman and trapping one of her arms with hers. What could look like a thoughtful gesture from the outside, as the woman was now whimpering with dread, really just was a forced removal. "I hope I'll see you soon. Cousins, uncle".

She had far more interesting plans to occupy the rest of her night with, so she hushed her to the door and to the nearest apparition point. Then she picked up a random object and transformed it into a Port-Key with a bored flick of her wand.

She shoved it in Idabelle's hands, then the woman disappeared.

Theo raised a questioning brow at her, at the sight of which she merely shrugged.

"She'll be fine. I sent her to the Leaky Cauldron", she said, hugging his waist as she got ready to dis-apparate them both. "Do you fancy some drinks with a couple friends?"

Before disappearing into thin hair and reappearing in her apartment, where she would have got a change of clothing, she cursed her mind for playing games at her: for a second she'd thought she'd seen someone that wasn't supposed to be in England, not to mention Greengrass Manor.

Someone from a past she wished she could forget.

* * *

 **[1]** : **_LadyBalls_** is a shade from TooFaced's melted liquid lipsticks range.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, cupcakes! Chapter 15th is here, at last. 8,2k+ words.  
I hope you enjoyed reading it just as much as I enjoyed writing it.

We get a little glimpse of just _how_ powerful Hermione's magic is compared to  
everyone else's and finally Mrs. Greengrass gets what she deserves.  
Is this the last we'll see of her, mmmh?

You can find faceclaims for Idabelle and all characters mentioned on the official tumblr  
I created for this story (yup, Mr. and Mrs. Parkinson, too!); an extract from  
the following chapter, which I'll hopefully be able to upload before Christmas),  
will be posted there as well as soon as I'm done with these notes.

Last but not least, remember to vote in the poll you can find in my bio to help  
me figure out which side-pairings I should give precedence over the others.  
So far, everyone got a vote with the exception of Ron/Lavender.  
To think the story-line I thought for them is essential to the main plot. LOL.

Until next time, have a wonderful week! :))


	16. AND WE DANCED

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **16.**

 **AND WE DANCED**

 **.**

" __i will not, i will not give a damn who watches me,  
i will live, i will live, liberate the fox in me (…)  
i will not be a mannequin (no) the ego banished, the roof's on fire,  
let's burn down the Vatican, i will moonwalk to Pluto in honor of Michael Jackson,  
in heaven he'll be saying, that man is tight at dancing_ _"

* * *

 ** _( Diagon Alley, The Lion's Den_** **– London, England** ** _,_**

 ** _September 17th, 2003, around 12:00 a.m. )_**

* * *

The noisy pub was famous for his Saturday's night parties, but that was the first week Hermione had managed to experience it first-hand.

Her life ever since returning to England had been eventful, to say the very least: many people were reaching out to her with the purpose of reconnecting after her _five-years-long_ absence, and though the witch was very aware of the _further motive_ clumsily hidden behind a lot of the letters and requests she'd received on her Mirror profile, she still found herself rather busy on a daily basis.

It was a lesson she'd learnt the hard way: it was the year _2000th_ , anyone wanted a piece of Victoria Sallow and for some time she'd made the mistake of giving it to them; her mind couldn't be fooled for long, however, and soon she'd discovered the truth, she'd discovered the sheer hypocrisy following money and power, which she had collected in great abundance, wherever those two went.

She'd become cold and detached, an oiled business-machine with the sole purpose of profit, and she was good at what she did for a living: whether it was investments, meetings with clients and shareholders or the development of a new idea, Pansy didn't lie when she said she turned everything she touched into _gold_.

Just like King Midas, unfortunately, she seemed to turn people, too.

The brunette had lost count of the number of men and women, muggle or magical, who'd tried to take advantage of her over the years: as deeply as it hurt her, _everyone_ had something to gain by getting closer to her, it wasn't her _paranoia_ , and she'd become even less trustful than she'd been at the end of war.

Even now, as her body moved fast in the middle of the dancing crowd, she knew the cute guy with the sandy blond hair was using his charming smile not because he genuinely _liked_ her but because he knew exactly who she was, and the good press he could have milked out of her popularity; the intentions of the apparently nice girl who was wildly shaking her hair as she followed the rhythm of the song, on the other hand, were even more obvious: she'd placed herself next to her, offering her circumstantial friendship just because she'd run out of money and hadn't found a _man_ to pay for her drinks… _yet_.

Not only she'd spent most of her life watching the other kids from afar, a book tucked tightly under her arm, Hermione also understood magic on a higher, deeper level, one that made it almost impossible for a wizard to trick her: ironically enough, muggles were those with a bigger chance of screwing her over.

Lex and Augustus Martin had almost succeeded.

Thinking about her stupid joke of a marriage, which she was sure could probably get an award for its _briefness_ , the witch was rapidly becoming nauseated.

"I need a drink", she muttered under her breath, then scolded at the hopeful look the same girl from before, _Cindy_ or _Lacey_ , sent her way. She grabbed her by the wrist, then did the same with the guy who'd been trying to hit on her.

" _You two have fun together_ ", she smirked, connecting their hands.

Her venture to the dance-floor had been pushed by the _adrenaline_ still running through her veins after her confrontation with Idabelle, but her magic was still crackling in her blood, eager to be released.

That's why she'd organized a last-minute gathering at the nightclub owned by her former housemate, Seamus Finnigan, hoping some booze and the company of the people close to her would have helped, but she'd left them as soon as they'd managed to catch an empty table in the more exclusive area of the two-stories pub.

If she said she didn't _enjoy_ what she'd done to her aunt, Hermione would have been lying: seeing the nasty woman practically on her knees, ripped from everything she felt _entitled_ to (her house, her husband, soon enough her social standing, too), had given her a feeling too good for her to ignore it. _Or_ forget about.

The witch normally didn't quite _like_ hurting other people: her annoying _bleeding heart_ , something she was afraid wasn't dictated by someone's affiliation to Godric's House, but rather by a _personal inclination_ many wizards and witches in Gryffindor shared, wouldn't have allowed that.

However, she'd always been too enamoured with her books not to appreciate the opportunity to _right some wrongs_ : _revenge_ was an old literary trope, and one of her ultimate favourites.

There was no way she could return to her brother and friends without stopping at the bar, first: she needed something, _anything_ , to make herself numb for a little while, so that she could simply _chill_ and enjoy herself instead of being eaten by anxiety and guilt.

 _What if Theo thought she was a monster_?

Unwillingly, Hermione had invested in their relationship more feelings than she'd anticipated when first discovering the truth about her heritage: she _loved_ her brother dearly, and as much as she couldn't bear the thought of Idabelle Greengrass toying with him and calling him _worthless_ , the woman couldn't imagine going back to the life she'd lived before he'd found her.

 _Who could really blame her?_

She'd found herself casting an _Obliviate_ on whom she believed were her parents at the age of sixteen, only to discover, half and a year later, that the couple had been _magically_ forced to adopt her and treat her as their own while deprived of the memory of the daughter they'd lost.

Then she had had to wait four years for some answers, though _definitely_ shocking and _rather_ upsetting, to finally came her way.

Her _identity_ had been shaken in its very foundation, even her _name_ had turned out to be a _lie_ : the witch had been left clueless about _who she was_ , but her twin had quickly become fundamental in defining _who she wanted to be_.

Hermione finally reached the bar counter on the ground-floor, where the DJ-station and most of the tables were placed, too.

Her breath was frantic and the long hair, which she'd straightened for the dinner party, reached past the middle of her back; on her eyes sat a perfect smoky-eye, while her lips were painted the colour of blood.

The curves of the bottom half of her body were wrapped inside a black high-waisted skirt made of a satiny fabric, one she'd originally purchased to wear at work but then classified as too short and revealing.

Meanwhile, her upper part was squeezed inside the _2000's edition_ of the _Fantasy Bra_ , a piece of underwear that had costed her quite a fortune: worth _15 million dollars_ , the _Red Hot_ was encrusted with over _300 Thai Rubies_ and listed in the _Guinness' World Record_ as _the most expensive piece of lingerie_ currently existing **[2]**.

And _yes_ , she'd worn it on a _casual_ Saturday night to go to a club: it wasn't as if it really was practical under the circumstances that usually required the presence of nice underwear, she could feel the little precious stones sinking into her skin and it felt anything _but_ sexy, besides tonight she'd felt the need to treat herself a little bit.

Those who didn't know who she really was would have always accused her of being _spoiled_ and _snob_ , no matter her actions, just because she _owned_ such amounts of money: they didn't care it was the product of her blood, sweat and tears, they didn't care she was using only a minimum part of the Galleons she made for herself, investing the majority of it in charity projects and scientific research for the betterment of humankind, wizards and muggles alike.

 _Haters were going to hate_ [3], no matter how hard she'd tried to change that simple, annoying fact in the past: she might as well look _fabulous_ as she found herself targeted by such an unpleasant sentiment.

The brunette greeted the pub-owner with a big smile. "Hello, Seamus", she chanted, perching herself on one of the bar-stools and picking up one of the sheet-menus that were sitting on the wooden board.

The man was busy handling some customers their drinks, so it took a minute before he could close the cash-register and focus his attention on her. " _Hermione, hi_!", he greeted, both arms coming to rest on the surface that separated them.

Tattoos peeked from underneath the sleeves of his shirt, and she suspected his arms were completely covered in it: many made no sense, others she recognized as old jokes she used to hear when the boys were gathered in front of the fireplace in Gryffindor's tower, some were plain black and others coloured instead.

"I think I'll have one of _those_ ", she announced, pointing her index finger at the recipe that covered his left forearm. " _Maybe two_ ", she rephrased.

The drink looked positively _lethal_ , which was exactly what she was in the mood for.

Seamus eyed her up and down, not sure she could have handled not two, but even half of the special shot she seemed so interested in: it was one of the first drinks he'd created and still one of his strongest.

"That's quite the challenge, _Herms_ ", he pointed out, then shrugged and put his hands to work, grabbing the bottles he needed from behind his back.

"What's the challenge?", asked a male voice he couldn't recognize.

When he turned, he almost dropped the bottle of absinthe in his hands.

 _Draco Malfoy_ had just approached the witch, placing a hand on her waist in a manner that was apparently casual, but it couldn't fool Seamus' expert watch: he could be completely _useless_ when it came about relationships, but he knew way too much about _sex_ not to recognize the touch of two _lovers_.

How on earth Draco Malfoy _and_ Hermione Granger had ended up shagging he couldn't say, but the thought, for some odd reason, _really_ amused him.

The world they were living in really had changed, couples like those that were currently meeting, flirting, connecting in every corner of his nightclub were now possible.

" _Oi, Malfoy_! May I suggest you take care of one of these?", he asked, nonchalantly, pushing the two shot glasses towards the pair.

"Sure", the blond shrugged, picking up one of the two and giving it to the woman next to him. He was no longer whispering in her ear: definitely some kind of _innuendo_ judging by the blush that had crept up Hermione's cheeks. He grabbed the other glass, inspecting it. "What is it?", he surrendered.

Draco could say he had a modest amount of experience when it came to alcohol, both wizarding and muggle, but the stratified drink was something he had never seen before: the first layer was made of a clear liquid, while the second and third were black, the latter being slightly more dense than its predecessor.

"White alcohol, black alcohol and absinthe", Seamus listed, unimpressed. "Now stop being _pussies_ and drink it, already", he ordered, lining up three more glasses on the wood. "Next round is on me!"

"I'm in if you are", teased Hermione. Her glass was already empty, but she'd downed her shot so fast neither of the boys had seen her drinking it.

Draco smirked, then shared a somehow _brotherhood-ish_ look with Seamus before he consumed his own.

His throat burned like _hellfire_ and there was no price he wasn't willing to pay for a fresh glass of water, but he kept a stoic expression and cocked a brow in the direction of the bartender, who was looking at him as he was trying to find any signs of subsidence.

Slightly disappointed, the Irish wizard proposed a toast. " _To Gryffindors and Slytherins drinking together_!", he cheered, a grin on his face. "Voldemort must be _rolling_ in his grave, which makes the booze in our hands the _sweetest_ beverage on earth, the _Wine of Gods_. _Fuck you, Tom!_ Hope _death_ is being hard on you".

His improvised speech was welcomed by a giggle from Hermione and a low-whistle on Draco's part, pinkies between the lips as _any_ cowboy in a muggle movie would have done it, and when he was done the witch insisted on them creating a human chain with their arms as they drunk their shots.

Seamus never lied about his mixtures, and this one really was one of the strongest he'd ever brewed: he served it in shots because it was _unthinkable_ for someone to drink it in more than one sip, the high alcoholic rate in all three components made it impossible even for the throat of a _dead body_ not to struggle as the liquid passed.

"Seamus, _I wondered_ …", Hermione trailed off, an innocent smile painted on her lips as she slowly batted her long, dark eyelashes.

Seamus had just refused her a third round, claiming the stew was too strong and she didn't want to know what usually happened to people even after the second shot. "What about it, _Herms_?"

The brunette cringed a little at the nickname but managed to hide her spontaneous grimace. "Would you happen to know where I could find some… _pot_?"

* * *

"So she just stares at the guy and says… _Do you really want to know what happens to those who dare to cross me, Sebastian? Learn to do your fucking job_ ", Pansy recounted, one hand gesturing furiously as the other was tapping the joint in her hand on the edge of the ashtray. "I mean, we were _starving,_ and he _was_ an idiot, that Sebastian lad, _of course_ , but I swear _I_ felt sorry for him. Another minute in your presence and he would have _cried_ ", she finished, patting Hermione's shoulder before offering it to her.

The brunette refused, already reduced to a giggling mess because of both the alcohol and what she'd already smoked: Seamus had kindly fetched Neville for them, so they'd rolled one and she and Draco had had their first round with the former Gryffindors; then she'd showed him the private table they'd re-assured for the night, as the blond wizard had initially said he wasn't going to be there, and Pansy and Harry, who were as big admirers of the plant as Longbottom was, had decided to make a _t-crossed_ one.

The man had actually joined them in the reserved area, leaving the friends he'd come to the pub with to their own devices, and soon enough his entire load had been sold: most of the people at the table swam in Galleons, so they'd collectively purchased the whole _four point six grams_ he possessed without batting an eyelash and now the group had progressed to joint number _sixth_. It wasn't so much, if they considered that they were being shared between nine people.

"He _deserved_ it. You know I'm very picky as to what ends up on top of my _pizza_ ", Hermione stated, unimpressed.

She was sandwiched between Pansy and Ginny, while the two had their boyfriends sitting next to them. Theodore and Luna were in front of her on one side, Draco and Neville occupied the other.

"And my list doesn't include _pepperoni_. I hate that _shit_ ", she whined, looking just as upset as she'd done that night three years before, when she'd picked up every slice of the vegetable with her fork, a disdained expression on her face.

For a moment she'd returned there, in the living room of the first apartment she'd shared with her best friend, and suddenly she'd been hit by the feeling of _missing_ , at least to some extent, _that part of her life_.

Her time in Australia perhaps hadn't been as enjoyable as the one she was having in England since her return, but there were times Hermione found herself struggling as day by day wounds she'd thought forever healed and scarred kept re-opening, triggered by the silliest things.

She'd fought in a fucking _war_ , so she was more aware than she would have liked about how circumstances can turn people into legit _beasts_ : anyone, even ( _especially_ ) herself, could be capable of _unspeakable_ things if given the _right input_ and under the right amount of pressure.

Pansy's timing was just _perfect_ : as she struggled with thoughts of his brother thinking ill of her because of what had happened at Greengrass Manor hours before, the Slytherin witch simply _had_ to share unflattering tales from her past.

She was lucky she was _too high_ and _too drunk_ to give a _fuck_ about anything that wasn't the music coming from the DJ-booth on the ground-floor, visible from their alcove on the second floor as the space in the middle of the building was empty.

The _V.I.P area_ looked down on the dance-floor in symmetrical, separated balconies that granted the privacy of its occupants, a perfect metaphor of the hierarchies which societies always seemed to tangle themselves into: sadly, changing _that_ was nearly impossible, so she'd learned the rules, hoping someday she could become the next _game-master_.

This far, she had almost nothing to complain about: her professional life, especially after Pansy had left, had given her a great amount of satisfaction, _but that was it_.

Despite the _boyfriends_ and _flings_ she'd entertained herself with during the past five years, which in the life of a _billionaire_ young woman were _a lot_ , she hadn't been able to create an emotional connection with any of them.

She'd believed things could be different with Lex, at some point: Hermione couldn't say she had been _in love_ with him, because that would have been a lie, but she'd been very fond of the Australian wizard, and even pictured _spending_ _her life_ with him, as she didn't seem able to find someone that really made her _crave_ his presence; besides, by the time she'd met the man she had long before stopped trying.

No matter how hard she wished for things to stay exactly that way, as she'd been hurt too many times and wasn't sure she could survive another, she knew something was different already, something had already changed.

She couldn't find the _madness_ to name them or question their nature, but she had developed feelings for Draco Malfoy, which, in one sentence, meant she was utterly, irreparably _screwed_.

Somehow, _she loved it_.

"Anyway, about the _pizza-guy_ ", she prompted, returning to a conversation everyone had temporarily forgotten about. She'd been focused on her thoughts for at least five minutes. "I _apologized_ to him", she felt the need to say.

"Yeah, after you bought the place he worked at so that you could make sure they would stop putting _pepperoni_ on top of their pizza. Did I ever tell you you'd have made a _marvellous_ Slytherin? You're definitely _megalomaniac_ enough", Pansy smirked, but they both knew there was some shed of truth in her words.

Hermione's ambition had been seen as _suspicious_ in her Gryffindor days, but she bet everyone who ever looked down at her was a little _envious_ of what she'd been able to make of herself (on the _outside_ , at least).

"I'm afraid that comes with _Nott_ 's blood", Theo chimed in, promptly rescuing her. "Now, Pansy, stop harassing my sister, _please_. She has every right to enjoy herself today".

"And why is that?", Ginny managed to ask, stifling down a giggle.

Of all the people at the table she was the _least_ experienced with the muggle world, and the only one who'd never smoked weed.

Nobody was surprised to see her in her current predicament: _red eyes_ , _the weirdest ideas_ _and_ _no sense of personal space_ , as she was comfortably smeared on top of both Blaise and Hermione.

The brunette sighed a breath of relief when she removed the weight, and this time she accepted the doobie when Pansy handed it to her.

"She kicked _Idabelle Greengrass_ right in the _ass_ ", said Draco, sharing a smirk with Blaise as he pronounced the woman's name. Neither of them _ever_ liked the witch, the opposite really, and over the years she had become a sort of _inside joke_ between the two, one they'd never shared with Theo since he could be rather touchy when it came to his family. " _Absolutely priceless_ ".

"I'm sure it was epic, Draco", Pansy chuckled. "Otherwise, she wouldn't be wearing _15 million dollars_ to celebrate", she said, cryptically. She was sure nobody there had the slightest idea of what a _Fantasy Bra_ even was, not mention actively _recognizing_ it: _gems that shiny_ , however, _should have been easy to notice_.

"She's wearing 15 million dollars? What could possibly have that price _and_ be a piece of clothing?", Harry asked his girlfriend, snuggling deeper on her side. The girl was brushing his hair with her fingertips, and sooner or later, if he didn't start doing something ( _anything_ ) he would have soundly fallen asleep. _MJ_ did that to him.

"It's not clothing, _you silly boy_ ", Hermione explained, her tone so similar to when she used to help him with his homework that he almost thought they were speaking about a _D.A.D.A_ 's essay due the following morning. "It's _lingerie_ ".

"That _thing_ is worth 15 million dollars?", Ginny gaped. She knew Hermione had more money than the entire _Quidditch league_ at her disposal, but she couldn't possibly believe an object like that could exist. Or that the former Gryffindor would buy it. "How? _What?_ " To her, it made no sense. But then again, having so many Galleons she couldn't count them, Ginny would have purchased something extremely unnecessary and dumb herself. She already did it on a daily basis with the extremely generous salary the _HolyHead Harpies_ paid for their captain.

"It's a _muggle-thing_ , I'll tell you another time", the brunette promised, then turned her gaze back on Pansy, uncertain. "Your parents were there, by the way".

Many emotions passed on the dark-haired witch's face, but one prevailed on all the others: _anger._ Pansy, however, seemed unable to find the strength to speak.

" _Charming_ as ever", said Draco, smirking. "I hope you don't mind if I riled them up a little", he added, turning the curve of his lips in a much softer smile.

"His _diss_ could easily be turned into a _rap song_ with the right music", added Theo.

The raven-haired wizard was suspended in a state of pure bliss: piling on top of his new _freedom_ and the effects of all the _substances_ travelling in his blood there was the exciting presence of _Luna Lovegood_ on his side.

Their date at the _National Gallery_ of almost a month before had gone extremely well and many others had followed: he treasured the time spent with the blonde witch as a man lost in the desert treasured water, but thus far their relationship had remained strictly… _**platonic**._

The former Ravenclaw had been very firm on one point since they'd started seeing each other: she wouldn't have allowed anything _physical_ to happen between them for as long as he would have remained engaged to Daphne.

She didn't wish to be a _mistress_ , or a _second choice_.

Her self-respect somehow had made her even more desirable.

She hadn't budged except for the one time when she'd showed herself at the Manor with the intention of breaking things off, and Theo had kissed her to stop her from dis-apparating.

Tonight, however, things were different.

Theodore Nott, son of a convicted _Death-Eater_ , could _make a move_ without being eaten by guilt and with the only fear of being rejected, which clearly wasn't the case as the girl had reacted to the news of his broken engagement very enthusiastically.

Now he just needed to be alone with Luna for ten minutes so that he could confess the feelings, though still _unripe_ , he'd developed for the witch during the month he'd spent chasing after her.

The former Slytherin wasn't the most trusting of wizards, or an expert in serious relationships, the only one he'd had as an adult had been a scam, after all, but he knew she was the kind of girl he could ( _would?_ ) eventually fall for, if he hadn't already: there was something about her that just kept on drawing his attention, no matter what she did or say.

Maybe it was just the way she always seemed so at ease, so peaceful even in times of distress: she believed the world to be a _wonderful place_ waiting for her to explore it and she'd managed to awaken the same feeling in him.

Truth be told, his sister had played a part in that, too: not only she'd opened his horizons with the selection of places she'd picked for their trip, as he'd never left England before; Hermione was also responsible for both pushing him in regaining his freedom and helping him facing his aunt when she'd brought up the _Unbreakable Vow_.

Speaking of which, he was still utterly shocked: he'd known Idabelle all his life, so he knew what kind of vicious person she could be, but what she'd tried to do to her own daughter _(s)_ trumped everything she'd done before.

Now he understood why Daphne had returned home after her first altercation with her mother, _however_ : when she'd moved with him for a couple of weeks and he had tasted just as sweet being broken from his chains was, he hadn't been able to comprehend the reasons behind her moving back to Greengrass Manor… and asked him to keep up the charade for a while longer, request he'd hated but to which he'd complied.

He'd thought of it as a metaphor when she'd told him she _had no other options_ , that she _had a wand pointed at her throat_.

Theo shook his head, pushing the thoughts aside: it was a night for celebration, and _celebrating_ was what he _craved_ to do.

"Are you still here?", asked Luna, waving a hand in front of his face, a dozen of multi-coloured bracelets clinking musically as she did so. " _Planet Earth to Mr. Nott_ ", she called, chuckling.

His neck turned to the right and he barely managed to hide his surprise when he found her sitting much closer to him than before: she'd moved in the time he'd been trapped in his own mind, and now he could feel her warm breath brushing his face.

The blonde was literally _one kiss_ away from him and he wished their friends could disappear for a moment, or even better, for a couple of hours.

He sighed, heavily, before he forced himself to raise his glance from her lips and meet her eyes.

Besides the _lucid dreaminess_ that was characteristic of them, there was also a flash of something he could explain to himself only as _empathy_ : Luna wanted to kiss him, too.

" _Mind if I walk you home, later_?", he asked in a whisper. _That was it_. He'd made his move, though it hadn't felt half as _badass_ as it did when he'd rehearsed it in his mind.

Luna's sweet expression shifting into a pensive one added to his discomfort.  
 _  
Did he screw it up?_

"I'm afraid that won't be possible", she muttered, sadly. "As you know, I'm living with my father as the pipeline in my condo gets repaired and he's, _um_ , a little _traditionalist_ , for a lack of better words".

Theo couldn't believe his _bad luck_ : yes, he was aware of the reparations currently going on in her apartment, which had been the _epicentre_ of the water leaks, but the _fucking_ pipes had broken _yesterday_.

He could hear the _Universe_ laughing at him. "Oh, _I'm- Err_ , I understand", he uttered, his cheeks turning pink.

Had his offer been that _not_ subtle? He'd obviously thought about going into the house, and then her bedroom, _with_ the witch, but he was fine with just accompanying her home and have her exclusively to himself for a little, so he voiced his thoughts.

Though he wasn't as wasted as some of the others, like Hermione or Ginny, who had been stuck in a _loop_ where they would laugh at _anything_ being said or done, or Draco, who had been trying to raise from his seat for approximately _five_ minutes now, stumbling in his own feet and sitting back down _each_ time.

To a second look, Zabini's current predicament wasn't much brighter: he was having a hangover of the _sad_ type and he kept sending longing looks at his red-haired girlfriend as she talked to Harry Potter. And Pansy, _the man's current girlfriend_ , but he seemed to not be noticing that detail.

"You could give me a proper tour of _Nott Manor_ , however", Luna spoke again, whispering the words in his ear so softly he found himself… well, _purring_. He supposed he was lucky she had a special appreciation for cats.

The wizard jumped on his feet, the movement so simply accomplished it earned him a glare from Malfoy, then offered his hand to help her do the same.

He was still amazed by the amounts of alcohol her rather small body seemed to be able to manage: not once she'd flinched on her speaking, nor she'd looked to be particularly affected by the weed they'd smoked.

Then he remembered her best friend happened to be _Neville Longbottom_ , who had turned out to be quite the _party animal_ growing up.

"I'll see you tomorrow", he said to his sister when she stood to greet him.

The dirty look Draco sent her way was extremely different from the one he'd received, but he was _too stoned_ and _too_ _busy_ to be concerned by it.

"You _behave_ ", Hermione recommended, smirking. "Have a nice _walk_ ", she added, addressing them both, then returned her attention to Pansy's unusually quiet _chit-chat_.

Grinning, Theo departed from the group as he circled the girl's shoulders with an arm, snuggling her up his side.

For the first time in his life, he didn't give two fucks about _discretion_.

* * *

Hermione was halfway past the point of _no return_ : she was a light-headed, chuckling mess and she couldn't be bothered by it.

Her face was flushed by the alcohol, her eyes puffy and red because of the smoke and for some time she'd even managed to return Ginny the courtesy, spreading herself on top of her friend's body in her quest for a comfortable position before the red-haired had escaped, hiding herself on her boyfriend's lap.

It turned out Zabini was one of the people who better endured a night out: despite the liquor drunk and the pot inhaled, he still looked as _pristine_ as the moment he'd entered the pub, and even now, with his _high, half-naked_ (as her little black dress left very little to imagination) girlfriend smeared on top of him, he was the epitome of sanity and control.

However, there was an odd _sadness_ to him that she couldn't figure out, especially considering the topic he was discussing.

"I would usually agree with you, _mate_ ", he was telling Draco. "The whole secrecy around the deal is _shady_ , at best, but the numbers I received are _crazy_ and the projections _I_ calculated from there are even better. I _need_ to cut myself a slice of that cake, or I'm sure I'll regret it. Everyone else surely will", he added, with a smirk, knowing there was no way in heaven he could convince the blond to blindly follow his lead.

Malfoy was like that, _take it or leave it_ : dismissive attitude, massive _trust-issues_ and an _ego_ even bigger than his Manor. " _Dunno', man_. You know I'm happy to leave Lucius take care of _Malfoy Industries_ for as long as the man can breathe. Probably I'm not the best person to talk about business with, I guess, but even an _outsider_ like me can tell you not to work with people you've never met in person. What's the problem with this guy, anyway? He's buying an entire _district_ of London, what's the point in keeping everything so secret?".

"From what I gathered from the witch I've spoken to, they're trying to be _discreet_ so they don't draw the Ministry's attention, and we certainly _cannot_ blame them for that", Blaise pointed out, a frown on his face. He'd voiced his doubts hoping to be re-assured, but Draco was feeding them instead. The serious tone in the wizard's voice gave away his concern about the situation, but it was something about the tight set of his jaw and the stiffness of his posture that made a certain bell ring in the half-Italian's mind. "Wait… you don't think there are _them_ behind this".

"There's been an attack in _Diagon Alley_ around the same time a new one gets built, and despite the Minister's reassurances on the Prophet, we all know ninety-five percent of what they write is _bullshit_. Regardless, I think we've all seen the _Dark Mark_ ", Draco retorted, defending his hypothesis.

He could feel the evil creeping up the surface in wizarding Britain, the signs were all there, just like the last time: though nobody could resurrect Voldemort himself, there were still many who hadn't been captured and would probably be glad to dedicate their existences to turn _His_ vision into reality.

Hermione was listening very carefully to their exchange and she could clearly see where both of them were coming from: with no information to fill the blanks, it was really easy to become paranoid.

She was one of the few lucky people entitled to the truth, however, and to her the _conspiracy theory_ they were putting together was simply _hila_ _rious_.

"…So _Death-Eaters_ in this case are obviously the _Lannisters,_ I just wonder who their _Tyrion_ would be. And worse, who would be their _Cersei?_ "

 _Well, if that hadn't escalated quickly_.

At least, their search for the truth had been momentarily put on hold, and she could relax.

The brunette broke down in laughter, no longer capable of stifling down the giggles.

The way a Slytherin could find _plots_ and _swindles_ in pretty much _everything_ deeply amused her.

" _A song of ice and fire_ , _uh_?", she asked, smirking. Then her eyes narrowed, and she looked both wizards up and down, repeating the process until they were sufficiently squirming on their seats. "Do tell me, _boys_. _Who_ do you think will end up on the throne? But most importantly, who _deserves_ it?"

As it turned out, the muggle novel was quite popular at the table.

Soon enough, everyone was exposing their personal theories about the book, people talking tirelessly as others talked louder in general chaos.

The witch took advantage of the general distraction to slide closer to Pansy, resting her head on the woman's shoulder as she whispered in her ear. " _Can I talk to you?_ ", she asked.

Pansy's eyes darted on the figure on her side, but when she opened her mouth to reply Hermione's voice stopped her. " _Privately_ ", she added, sending a meaningful glance in Harry's direction.

The wizard was currently busy praising his own favourite character, but his friend knew that he'd been taught to keep _constant vigilance_ and would eventually notice if anything odd happened right behind his shoulders.

"We'll go to the loo and maybe have a go on the dance-floor. I'll be back soon", Pansy announced, planting a chaste kiss on her boyfriend's cheek, then left without doing as much as waiting for his reply.

She followed Hermione to the ladies' bathroom, a small room on the first floor that was barely large enough to contain both the toilet and the sink. The fixtures were clearly old, but surprisingly clean.

" _What's up with you?_ "

As she tried to come up with a decent answer, Pansy took two long, calculated steps to the sink, then picked up a lipstick from her purse and reapplied the product to her mouth. "What do you mean?", she asked with innocent tone.

"You turned into stone when I mentioned your parents, but you were radiant before that. You reacted way better when we met them at the Ministry Gala the last week. What's wrong, Pansy?"

Pansy internally scoffed. Hermione was _too clever_ for her own good, it figured she would have noticed the change in her mood, especially when she'd done nothing to hide it with everyone so wasted and focused on drinking and chatting.

She'd been lost in her thoughts and memories, assaulted by demons she'd long before started pushing to the back of her mind; they couldn't be defeated, they couldn't be vanished: fighting them was pointless.

"It's nothing, _really_. I'm just glad I didn't answer your uncle's invitation, at this point. I had no idea they'd been invited too", she said, though hiding part of the truth felt a lot like lying to her.

"I don't think they knew, either", Hermione suggested. "When Draco named you they looked like they'd just been served _poison_ ".

"It doesn't surprise me", she confessed. "The last time I spoke with my mother she used those very words, she accused me of _poisoning_ the Parkinson line. She said it was better to _completely_ cut off the tree rather than let me stay on it. Next thing I knew all my assets were frozen and I was _homeless_ at the age of eighteen".

"That's _awful_ , Pansy. Your mother is awful".

She put the lipstick back into the purse, then moved on to fix her short, black hair, ignoring her comment. "It's _Draco_ now, by the way? Maybe I should have come, after all. Watching you two trying to hide your _secret affair_ now that I know about it is _priceless_ , and it gets _funnier_ every day. I wonder how long you'll manage to keep it like this".

Hermione faced her friend's teasing with remarkable grace. "You're right, Pansy, watching someone trying to hide a secret you already discovered is really entertaining. Now, since we're in this _lovely_ sharing _vibe_ , why don't you tell me all about the _rock_ on your _ring_ _finger_?", she asked. Her smirk deepened when the witch's eyes widened in shock. "Let me guess. _How do I know about it?_ "

Pansy nodded her head, speechless. She'd done her best to conceal it, using an _advanced_ spell she was rather proficient at casting, so _how on earth_ did she found out? Did Harry told her despite _promising_ Pansy he wouldn't?

"I wasn't sure until tonight", the former Gryffindor confessed. "But I've known something major happened between you and Harry recently. Something's been _different_. You're _so_ happy all the time. When you touched my face, earlier, I could tell there was something odd about your skin. It wasn't difficult to take a glimpse of it once I knew what I was looking for and what kind of charm I needed to bypass".

"So… _what do you think_?", the other asked, releasing the concealment spell and raising her hand so that Hermione could take a deeper look of it. "Isn't it _perfect_?"

"The ring is very beautiful", she said, her voice veiled with uncertainty. "I didn't realize your relationship progressed _this_ far".

" _Neither did I_ ", Pansy admitted with a shrug. "Don't get me wrong, I knew he was the _love of my life_ somewhere around our fourth date, but I definitely didn't see his proposal coming. You know how I feel about surprises, but this one was completely worth it".

"So, you're not… _pregnant_ or something?", she inquired, trying to keep an expressionless face.

She knew the idea was _preposterous_ because she was very well acquainted with both Pansy and Harry's characters, but she needed to be sure: many couples married with the only reason of an upcoming child, and she felt like that wasn't the kind of life she wished for two of her best friends.

"For Salazar's sculpted _arse_ , Granger! I've been drinking with you all night, of course I'm not _pregnant_!", Pansy scoffed, the look in her eyes that of a haunted animal. "Harry proposed and I said _yes_ , it's simple as that. I love him and for reasons I never figured out he loves me back. What could possibly be wrong with that, _uh_?"

"Nothing's wrong with that, obviously. _I'm sorry_ , Pans", Hermione muttered, quietly. "I just want to be sure both of you are happy. If you wish to do so together, you shall get no qualms from me. I didn't mean to overstep".

"And I didn't mean to keep it from my best friend", she confessed. "I just wanted to keep the secret to myself for some time and avoid _this_ conversation for a little longer, since we haven't settled on a _day_ , yet".

"I understand. Really, _I do_. There's no need for us to have it now, and there's no need for us to have it at all. You have my blessing, for what's worth", the brunette replied with a smile. "I feel like congratulations are in order, _future Mrs. Potter_ ".

Pansy jumped in her friend's arms as soon as she opened them and gestured her to come closer.

The pair hugged for a minute, and a couple of tears were cried before they eventually decided to return to the rest of the group.

"Would you please keep it to yourself?", Pansy demanded of her, seriously, stopping right before the corner that separated them from the others. "We'd like to organize a dinner or _something_ and deliver the news for ourselves, if you don't mind".

Hermione gave her a puzzled look, wondering why the dark-haired witch seemed so keen on keeping her engagement a secret, but then she shrugged and gave her consent. Her friend needed someone _supportive_ on her side, so _supportive_ was what she was going to get from her. "Of course, it won't be a problem", she reassured. "Be aware that once news gets out, the press will be all over you".

"The press finds every excuse to _stalk_ Harry", Pansy said, but the words died in her mouth as she found her fiancee in front of her. Hearing their voices, he probably had come looking for them. " _Oh_ , _there you are_! I was telling Hermione about the time the Prophet's photographer casually ended up in _Rome_ at the same time we did", she chirped, quickly gaining confidence in her lie as she added details to it.

She knew how Harry stressed out because of reporters following him around and she didn't wish for him to regret his choice because of something so trivial.

Pansy loved him dearly, but she still couldn't believe her luck: even now that he'd proposed, she felt like he was going to _run away from her_ sooner or later.

As she kept on chatting, Pansy grabbed his hand in hers and walked him back to the table. She did her best to hide a giggle when a low whispered " _Smooth_ " reached her from behind, where Hermione was following them.

* * *

By the time they approached the dance-floor, not only the majority of the customers had already left the pub, but their group had turned into a quartet: Neville excused himself after receiving a message on his phone that made his cheeks incredibly red, while Harry and Pansy decided to return to her apartment because of the long day of work that was waiting for both of them.

Ginny and Blaise, on the other hand, looked like they could keep going for another twelve hours: Hermione couldn't tell where they took all their energy from, but she knew they would find more _proficient_ ways to use it as soon as they would be left alone from the way they kept on eating each other's face between a pirouette and the other, their arms intertwined as they danced with their bodies pressed against one another.

Everyone who spared a glance at the happy couple found himself wondering what their secret could possibly be: the red-haired had an ecstatic expression on her face that nothing seemed able to dissolve as Zabini helped her twirl around; the man had immediately stopped scowling when Potter had voiced his greetings, and even though anyone could tell his jealousy for the wizard was dumb, the depth of his feelings for the woman in his embrace was out there in the open for everyone to see.

On their part, Draco and Hermione followed the music in a similar fashion, eyes closed and bodies swaying in place, but all the contact their bodies made was casual on the outside: they were dancing _together_ , but only them could be _sure_ of that.

" _Seven thirty at your place_?", the blond whispered in her ear as soon as the song came to an end, taking advantage of the twenty seconds of silence that usually anticipated the beginning of a new one.

That was the moment she realized the _butterflies_ muggle literature so often mentioned were not a silly metaphor, because she could feel them swimming in her belly, ready to start a revolution – that, or perhaps she was more drunk than she wished to admit.

In any case, she couldn't stop herself from grinning.

He hadn't mentioned their date _once_ since first asking her out the previous week, and in the time-span he'd needed to organize it, as he was still a _single father_ who needed to find someone to look after his daughter if he wanted to go out, more than once she'd asked herself if maybe he hadn't simply _changed_ his mind.

The outcome of a _romantic dinner_ between the two of them was _uncertain_ at best, but if it was half as good as the things they'd already done together, then she had nothing to worry about.

Unfortunately, she still had an _entire_ day to live through before she could finally get some of the answers she so desperately craved.

Things between her and Malfoy were just as _intriguing_ as they were _ambiguous_.

"Seven thirty is fine by me", she agreed, turning on her heels so that she could face him. She quickly checked on their friends, who were now heading to the bar to get the umpteenth refill, and took advantage of their absence to firmly place a hand on his chest as she leaned closer, bringing her lips to his right earlobe. " _Where are you going to take me?_ "

"I'm afraid you'll have to show up if you want to find out", was all he said, smirking, his hands tightening their grip on her waist before they eventually, unwillingly released her.

* * *

 **[2]** : yup, the **_Fantasy Bra_** it's a real thing and it's from Victoria's Secret. The one mentioned here really was the most expensive piece of lingerie, or at least it was in 2003.

 **[3]** : " ** _Here's gonna hate_** " the inspiration here was Taylor Swift's _Shake it off_ (though I feel like everyone and their grandmother knows that song).

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, my beautiful readers!  
As soon as I'm done writing these notes I'll start editing the following chapter,  
because this is going to be a **_DOUBLE UPDATE_**.  
I haven't posted a new chapter for a while and on the 11th it was my birthday, so...  
 _Merry Christmas & happy new year, by the way_! I'll see you in the following chapter. (:


	17. TALK THAT TALK

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

 ****This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **17.**

 **TALK THAT TALK**

 **.**

" __sa _y what you want, say you want you like,  
say you want me to do and I got you,  
tell me how to love you, tell me how to hold you,  
i'mma get it right on the first try for you__ _"

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Victoria Street n. 23: the Penthouse – London, England,  
September 18th, 2003, around 18:45 p.m. )_**

* * *

Draco was doing his best to refrain himself from furiously pacing the luxurious living room up and down, but he'd been waiting for over twenty minutes now and he still hadn't seen her.

The man put down with a sigh the small statuette he'd taken from the surface of the sleek, modern fireplace, then continued his exploration of the room: with nothing better to steal his focus, he noticed details in the furniture he hadn't paid attention to before, which was funny considering he'd been there in quite a number of occasions during the past few months, considerably more so since they'd brought the flirting and the teasing to the _physical_ , _factual_ level.

A new habit he'd immediately grew fond of, but which still left him baffled: the wizard didn't know why a _woman like her_ would waste her priceless time on _him_ , but he was determined to discover the truth.

He knew she was worth his trust, she was Hermione Granger, for _Salazar's sake_ , he just couldn't understand why she'd consider him worth of hers.

Draco wasn't complaining in the slightest; he had been extremely serious when asking her out on a date and he was extremely aware of the implications hidden behind such a request: whatever he was supposed to call their _casual_ relationship, he wanted to make the _following_ step. With cautiousness, of course, but a step nonetheless.

Both the wizarding and the muggle world were full of men who would sell their _souls_ for a fraction of her affections: she wasn't only _beautiful_ to the point he could never grow tired of merely looking at her, she was also the _cleverest_ person he'd ever met, a _war-heroine_ , a _visionary_ and a _pioneer_.

Hermione Granger was what people called a _ninety piece_ and now that Draco had taken his _taste_ after a lifetime of thinking it impossible, he wasn't ready to give up without a fight.

It was too early to define the feelings he'd developed for her, as they frequently _blurred_ into older ones of _hatred_ , _rivalry_ and even an embarrassing _crush_ he'd buried under walls of taunts and insults muttered through gritted teeth, but he was determined to explore them.

Possibly with the help of the witch he still hadn't seen.

It had been the concierge to escort him to her apartment, but once they'd gotten to the last floor he'd been left to his own devices and when he'd reached the door to the penthouse he'd found it already open.

Of the witch, however, there had been no trace.

His _MirrorPhone_ buzzed in the back pocket of his black, form-fitting trousers as a pair of heels simultaneously started ticking on their way down the marble stairs.

He picked it up and unlocked the screen, then rolled his eyes.

 _Narcissa Malfoy sent you a picture_.

It sounded too ridiculous to be true, yet it was right in front of his eyes.

He'd regretted teaching his mother how to use the bloody device as soon as they'd approached the _selfie_ field: like any person her age, she seemed completely _oblivious_ to such things as _good angles_ , _perspective_ and _context_ when taking her pictures.

He sighed a breath of relief when what he spotted on the phone turned out to be a video of his daughter having fun: the Malfoy matriarch was baby-sitting her granddaughter for the night, and currently the pair was having tea with her favourite plushes.

That wasn't even the _funny_ part.

Towards the end of the video, the camera zoomed on the right, where _Lucius_ was stiffly sitting at the small table, a _pink feather boa_ draped around his neck.

Hermione found him like that, mouth agape in front of her fireplace, eyes widened as he kept replaying the last ten seconds of footage.

"Tabloids would pay you _millions_ for a copy of that", she said, teasingly. " _I_ would pay you _millions_ for a copy of that".

It was only then that he realized the woman was finally ready and had joined him, which meant he could finally look at her.

Draco believed her body, and especially her face, often spoke much louder than her words: she was very guarded and careful in the way she spoke, but he was very invested in studying every small little gesture she did.

That's where he usually found the _meanings_ behind her _actions_ : on a touch she avoided, or a glance she unconsciously threw, or the furious blush that crept on her cheeks whether she was raged or embarrassed (or _turned on_ , as he'd discovered).

The blond took a minute to really study her appearance: she'd obviously taken her time getting ready, but she was far less _polished_ than she was on special events; she'd left her hair naturally curly for once, and it flowed down her bare shoulders in soft, voluminous waves.

Her face had minimal make-up: a small black line framed her long, thick eyelashes, ending up in a little upwards wing; her entire complexion looked exceptionally glowing, but something shiny had been applied to the top of her cheeks, enhancing their natural shape; her lips were lightly tapped with a brownish nude lipstick, and a little more of the shiny stuff had been applied to her cupid's bow.

Her dress was only a couple shades darker than her skin; the tan-coloured, shiny fabric was kept together by a single bow on her belly, which crossed all the way back to her waist, spine and shoulders, while on her feet there was a pair of gold ankle-strap heels.

She looked positively ravishing.

Draco made sure to tell her so. Grabbing her hand in his, he lifted her arm until it reached his shoulders' height and bowed down his neck, placing a lingering kiss on top of it. "You're beyond gorgeous, tonight", he breathed on her pulse, turning her arm upside down and placing another on her forearm.

The woman smiled at him, bringing her head slightly backwards and exposing the long neck as her hair fell down her back. "The feeling is mutual", she admitted, then took her hand back only to draw a tuft of white-blond hair on the back of his ear. "You look quite handsome yourself. Are you ready to go?", she asked, her fingertips lingering on the surface of his jaw.

" _As ready as I could ever be_ ", he answered, _cryptically_ , then offered his arm as he prepared himself to side-apparate them.

Draco could feel her discomfort as she clenched her nails on his skin, re-assuring her hold on him way more than it was requested for that kind of travelling method, and made a mental note to remember it in the future.

If she ever agreed to a second date, he'd be glad to put his bike to good use.

* * *

Draco and Hermione arrived at the restaurant ten minutes before they were supposed to, apparating in a dark, secondary alley that muggles tended to avoid.

Many streets in the city had been enchanted in a similar fashion: with a simple twist of the _Muggle-Repelling_ charm, different strategic points where used by wizards and witches on a day to day basis.

Streets which muggles believed less than recommendable were _unbelievably pristine_ because of the lack of human presence.

The neighbourhood wasn't one familiar to the witch, who was looking at her surroundings in search of something ( _anything_ ) recognizable.

Hermione was about to voice her frustration and probably look at her whereabouts on the GPS within her phone, but when her hand reached down to dive into her shoulder-bag, Draco acted without thinking and grabbed it, holding it in his own as he tugged her towards the end of the street, where it crossed with a more notorious venue.

"Still nothing?", he asked with a smirk when the witch stopped abruptly on her tracks, mouth agape, forcing the man to pause his stroll, too.

"Aren't you a little too _posh_ for _Camden Town_ , Malfoy?", she inquired, an amused smile colouring her lips as she tried to hide whatever was going on in her mind.

Normally he'd have respected her desire not to talk about what had so clearly shocked her, and for a moment he regretted his choice of location: he never thought of Hermione Granger as someone who could _look down_ at a place, whichever that could be.

Then again, he never thought of Hermione Granger as someone who would flee from England as soon as the war was over, never to return in the time-frame of five years, what with the way she'd almost died fighting for it, or as someone who would become Pansy Parkinson's best _girl-friend_.

She had this habit of surprising him, of rewriting the character he'd so meticulously built in his mind over years spent observing her from afar when they were at school, and for once he had the opportunity to do the same with her.

Draco was grateful for that.

Too many years (seven, precisely) had gone to waste in his life because of the image he'd so fervently given away of himself.

 _Portrait of a dickhead_ , he liked to call that particular masterpiece.

"Trust me, _Hermione_ ", he said, his voice dropping down a few notes as he called her name. _Like he was sharing a secret_. "There's _nothing_ even remotely _posh_ in the Draco Malfoy who lived in muggle London".

"Trust _me_ , Draco. There's nothing _I_ don't miss of Hermione Granger as she was the last time she came here. It feels like a _lifetime_ ", she confessed, her eyes narrowed at the sight in front of them.

Most stalls were disassembled as they walked down the street at a slow pace, their hands still joined between their bodies. "It's probably because it _has_ been a lifetime. That girl would never, not in a million years, go out on a _date_ with _me_. _Would she now_?", he asked, rhetorically.

There was no need for her to answer, the blond already knew what it was going to be.

Hermione flashed him her wicked, _all-business_ and _no-party_ smile that generally announced the upcoming _downfall_ of the person on its receiving end. "I suppose _she_ wouldn't", she admitted, confirming his personal thoughts on the matter. "But what could possibly be the circumstance in which _that_ girl would have been asked by _that_ _you_ to go out on a _date_?"

" _Touché_ ", he said. _If you only knew_ , he thought.

Five minutes of walk later they were greeted at the entrance of the restaurant he'd picked by a man around his thirties, with brown curly hair and a charming smile.

The host introduced himself as _Chandler_ and escorted them to the back of the modern, sleek building; before they passed behind it, Draco managed to catch a glimpse of the familiar signboard, where the name of the place, _Villa Gino_ , was carved in fancy handwriting.

For his first date with Granger he'd applied one simple rule, _go big or go home_ , which was one of the reasons why he'd booked _the entire patio_ for a two-people dinner: the backyard was a lovely wooden porch surrounded by a beautiful, well-tended landscape of colourful flowers, bushes and trees; it had a minimalistic vibe, just like he preferred, but it was still beautiful and thoroughly organized in its spaces.

A glass, circular table stood in the middle of the balcony and a tablecloth made of crimson brocade stood on top it; two chairs of the same colour were placed in front of two matching sets of cutlery.

The wizard barely managed to stop Chandler from pulling the chair for her and do it himself, then promptly sent him to look for the restaurant's owner.

Once they were both seated he thought best to let her know the other reason he'd opted for this solution; over years of dinners in different spots of London with his friends, Draco had learned a couple things: more than once he'd found himself struggling to explain himself because a muggle had heard something he or she wasn't supposed to, like the time Greg had mentioned _love filters_ in the middle of Piccadilly Circus and a little girl with a crush on the boy sitting next to her in class had started asking the _weirdest_ questions.

"I agree with you about this side of the city being more private than its magical counterpart, but I thought _freedom of speech_ would have been nice, too", he explained with firm voice, but it took a strength he didn't know he possessed not to mess up. The light of the candles gently brushed over her skin, caressing the contours of her body, and he found it very hard not to be distracted.

"That's fine", she reassured him with a little smile before she appreciatively took a longer, deeper look at her surroundings. "As you may have noticed by now, I particularly value my… _peace_ ".

"Or rather, you particularly value paparazzi _not_ following you everywhere you go. Which I totally get, since I've tried to stay away from Diagon Alley as much as possible. Not that there's much I can do there, anyway", he shrugged, the conversation taking a path he wasn't comfortable with.

What would _the_ Hermione Granger think of hearing _the_ Draco Malfoy complaining about shops banning him?

He had been raised as an entitled, arrogant boy who believed others to be beneath him, with very few exceptions of some people he thought of as his equals, and himself to be above the law, but after experiencing a war and everything that followed, like spending a year with muggles without even knowing the basics of electricity or social customs and parenthood being forced upon him out of the blue, Draco had learned the hardest lesson of his life.

 _There was no such thing as people who don't make mistakes_.

He'd believed so of his father in his younger days, looking up at the tall, blond man like he was the recipient of anything meaningful in the world, and look where that had lead him.

On the Astronomy Tower, with his wand pointed at his Headmaster. Though he shared the woman's opinions of the old, deceased man, he still felt tremendously guilty for the way his life had ended.

Yes, he hadn't been the one to actively cast the killing curse, and yes, the wizard was already dying, _allegedly_ , because of a _curse_ Voldemort threw at him during their battle at the Ministry of Magic _,_ as Potter had explained in the book he would never admit he'd read from cover to cover. _Thrice_.

"I'm _so_ sorry", she muttered, quietly. It wasn't quite the reaction he'd anticipated: one would have thought _this_ witch would have scolded him, threw back at his face every _little evil thing_ he'd ever said to her – the list was really long, and he was sure she'd memorized it even better than him. She'd been the one receiving most of the filthy words ever exchanged between them. The realization hit him no matter how _obvious_ it really was: _Hermione was always and will forever be the better person_. Especially now, as she extended her arm and grabbed his hand with hers, squeezing it gently. "Though I'm afraid muggles have the _nosiest_ paparazzi of the whole bunch. I wouldn't be surprised to see a reporter's head peeking out of those bushes at any moment", she added, prompting a change of topic.

Appreciative of the assist, Draco returned the squeeze with a smirk. "In this case, we're lucky to be having dinner in a place where our bill will always be more valuable than any sum a photographer can bribe the staff with".

"How can you be so sure?", she asked.

"Well, _Hermione_ , _Villa Gino_ is famous for its _discretion_. They value their customers too much to allow reporters to scare them off for some easy money. Especially when those customers, like I said, are very rich", he explained.

" _You shall fear no harassment from the press in my restaurant, Miss_ ", gently claimed a male voice from behind her back. "I hope the venue is one of your liking".

Draco's eyes darted up and he met the familiar, wide-mouthed smile of the restaurant's owner.

 _Gino Galbani_ was a man approaching his fifties who did all he could to look ten years younger than he was and he was discreetly successful at that.

He wasn't very tall and his light-brown hair was starting to retreat back on his forehead, but he was muscular and charismatic, perfectly dressed in a midnight blue suit that made him look way more elegant than most of his very rich customers.

Hermione threw him a questioning look as the man walked to their table carrying a bottle and three glasses in his hand, which he placed on the centre of the table.

Draco chuckled, anticipating the questions he was probably going to be asked as soon as they were left alone. "Hermione, this is _Remigio Galbani_ _Terzo_. _Gino_ , this is _Hermione Granger_ ", he introduced them, then waited patiently as they shook hands.

"Which one do you prefer?", the witch politely asked. " _Gino or Remigio_?"

"Gino is reserved for my friends", the man clarified in a serious tone, then winked at the woman as he clapped his hand on Draco's shoulder before he set out on serving the champagne. "If you're a friend of this young man, _you're a friend of mine_ ", he grinned, then offered to the witch the first glass he poured.

"Of course, _Gino_. Malfoy is a dear _friend_ of mine, though our acquaintance is both _fresh_ and _ancient_ ", Hermione said, playfully. "Perhaps we'll get to become friends, too", she suggested, very kindly, but her voice was veiled with sarcasm.

 _Luckily_ , Gino didn't seem to notice.

Draco was a completely different story, though. He smirked at her, then accepted the glass the older man handed to him and raised it in his direction. " _Cheers_. Thank you again for reserving me a table with such a short notice", he felt the need to thank him.

"It wasn't a problem, Draco", the muggle replied. "Though I have a confession to make. As lovely as Mrs. Granger surely is, I was hoping to see _Narcissa_ ".

Draco snorted. It was an _inside joke_ he'd always found pretty grotesque ( _pretending to hit on a friend's mother_ ), especially since it wasn't _boys talking nonsense in Slytherin's dungeons_ _at the age of fourteen_ , but a grown, successful man who was very skilled at seducing women, and of an age compatible with his mother's.

He shrugged, trying to push those hideous thoughts out of his mind. _As if that could ever happen, tsk_.

Narcissa's most redeeming quality was the fierceness with which she loved and protected the people she cared about: that obviously included her son, for whom she'd risked her life, saved Harry Potter and lied to Voldemort's face, and her granddaughter, who had brought happiness back into her life when she was at her lowest; her husband, of course, whom she'd fallen in love with at first sight, whom she'd missed every second of every day when he'd been sent to Azkaban; her best friend, Anastasia Nott, whose death broke her heart and a woman Draco remembered very well.

A lot of the beautiful, elegant witch he could recognize in the one sitting in front of him, and for a moment he wondered if he should bring it up.

Gino Galbani _III_ prevented him from making such a mess.

"Your waitress will be here in a couple of minutes. I'm glad to inform you we've added a couple of dishes to the menu since the last time you've come here. From which, I have to say, a long time has passed. To think that I _hired_ you for your _manners_ in the first place", he admonished, looking right into the wizard's eyes. He blushed, slightly, but dissimulated his comfort with a very convincing fake cough. _Or so he believed_. " _Draco, Hermione_ , I hope you'll enjoy your dinner at _Villa Gino_. I'll see you later".

The man drank his champagne and left off after a perfect bow.

" _Well_ , that was _interesting_ ", she teased. "Gino seems… well, _fun_. Very, very _poised_ , too. _How do you two know each other_ …", she trailed off, _half-questioning, half-making a statement_ , her brows narrowed.

Draco sighed. He knew the questions were coming.

All he had to do was to tell the truth and tell it quickly, so that they could move on to more important topics, like the fact they hadn't really talked much about what had happened the day before at Greengrass Manor.

"As you already know, the _Wizengamot_ was very meticulous with the terms of my probation. Blaise says a secretary who he hooked up with a couple years ago told him a couple of the senior members wanted to make an _example_ out of me and others held a personal grudge against my father, so they really cared little of what happened to me", he said, doing his best to explain the facts in as little words as possible. His trial was a chapter of his life he didn't like to think about. "Anyway, I had to live one full year with muggles, _no access to my magic_ , of course, but also _no access to my money and no contacts with my mother or my friends_. They were adamant I got a _full-immersion_. The odds were against my survival, obviously".

"It must have been _traumatizing_ for you", she uttered. "Now that I think about it, I can't believe you're sitting at this table with me today, _Malfoy_. How on hell did you manage to fit in a society you knew nothing about?"

"I had my _O.W.L_. in Muggle Studies", he retorted with a smirk. "But you're right, I was utterly helpless. I spent my first weeks in London hiding in some abandoned community centre where junk-heads would go for their… _business meetings_ , but I realized very soon that staying there would have meant to _die_. I was young, spoiled, definitely not the best version of myself back then, but I was never _stupid_. I knew I needed a source of income if I wanted to survive, so I set out looking for a job, but everything I was eligible for was _under-paid_ or _not very legit_. I almost gave up, but then I met Gino".

"They should have given you some money to start off with", she countered. "Everyone _with a brain_ would understand fresh starts aren't just gifted to you. What were you supposed to _eat_?"

"I think that was the whole point of my sentence, Hermione. I needed to make it out alive, and I needed to make it out _alone_ ", Draco said, an amused expression on his face that quite didn't match the one he'd sported during the period of his life he was talking about. "No matter how shitty, it was my second chance. So, _I took it_. With no experience or previous knowledge of the muggle world it was almost impossible for me to succeed, but I did it. I wouldn't have made it without Gino, though", he added with a smirk.

" _When_ did he come into the picture?", she asked. The line of her mouth was flat because of an emotion he couldn't quite separate from the others flashing off in her face. Anger, sadness, empathy. "How long did you live in that place?"

"He was in the picture before I even realized he existed", he chuckled. "Gino is the good soul who takes whatever is left at closing hours and distributes it to the homeless people of the London Borough of Camden. I had been a member of that group for nearly a _month_ when he found me".

"And then what? He _rescued_ you?", she teased, trying to lighten up the conversation a little. Draco appreciated the effort, but her attempt didn't prove to be very effective. "You don't strike me as the kind of guy who would accept the help of the first muggle who looks his way, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong".

It was one of the things she liked the most about her, this noisy, inopportune _curiosity_ that always led her to ask more questions, to be the most informed about any topic or circumstance, no matter how silly it was.

Hermione Granger still craved to _know it all_.

"You're right, actually. The first time he spoke to me I told him to _fuck off_ and never talk to me again. Then Gino questioned my _manners_ ", he admitted, raising a suggestive eyebrow.

" _Oh, no! He didn't_!", she snickered. "Godric, I wish I got a chance to see _that_ ".

"Well, let's just say I came up with a three minutes long paraphrase in which I defined him, in this order, an _idiot_ , a _peasant_ and a _pig_ ", Draco told her. "What can I say? I've changed a lot, and I like to think that I've changed for the better, but it's not something that happened _overnight_. Anyway, the following day I had a couch to sleep on and my first shift here at _Villa Gino_ 's".

" _You worked here_ ", she said, and it wasn't a question. The witch looked surprised by the tale, but quickly shrugged it away. "I'd say you played the cards you were dealt very thoughtfully, Malfoy. Now, tell me, what kind of job Gino offered you? I can't decide if a _toque blanche_ would suit you or not".

"Please, Granger. I would be _gorgeous_ with that thing on. Anyway, I'm afraid I'll have to disappoint you. Remigio Galbani didn't train me to be a chef".

"What did you do, then?", she asked, leaning closer to him over the table. Her beautiful eyes were slightly widened, her lips curled up in the tiniest smile and, honestly, all the blond wanted to do was to stare at her and smile like an idiot.

He was smitten for the girl. And it fucking _terrified_ him.

"I was the _host_ , _of course_ ", he confessed. There was a hint of something similar to _pride_ in his voice that she probably deemed out of character for Draco Malfoy, but that was exactly what he felt whenever he thought of the days he'd spent working at the restaurant. For the first time in his life, he'd looked _after_ himself, _earned_ the things he possessed, based his decisions merely on what _he_ – _not Lucius, not Voldemort_ – wanted. "And I was lucky. My pay-check allowed me to rent a nice room not far from here and I still had enough money to enjoy my time off from work. Meanwhile, my trust-fund was raising its interests. _Win-win_ for the Wizengamot and me", the man said, raising his glass as he pronounced the last sentence.

Hermione smirked, but reciprocated the toast. "I'd call it a _draft_ , honestly. _But you won in the spirit_ ".

* * *

The conversation went pretty much downhill from that point and they talked about a million different things as they had their taste of the _September's specials_.

Over the appetizer, _Noci di capesante dorate, ceci e lardo di Spigaroli all'artemisia_ , they discussed their current working-related projects, such as _MagiTech_ 's _upcoming and mysterious expansion in Britain_.

Draco had shared with the witch his thoughts on a business proposition he'd very recently received: the blond had been asked to exhibit a selection of his pictures somewhere in the middle of October and to even make a small speech during the inauguration party of his exposure.

No further details were added: there was nothing about the location, or the number of pieces he was supposed to gather.

A generous payment was mentioned, but that part didn't concern him; he was the heir of two of the largest fortunes ever piled up in wizarding England, besides he'd been very careful in the way he'd managed his finances – well, that is if you disregarded the two millions he'd spent on a whim for the old, dusty book he'd snatched from Hermione at the Hogwarts reunion.

He had Adhara's future to consider and his child's well-being was the thing he cared the most about in the world.

Her happiness was his _duty_ and _responsibility_.

"I think you should consider the offer", Hermione said over the main-course, after silently pondering all his options in her mind. "Of course, you should ask this anonymous art gallery to come forward and provide you more details, but your photos are _extremely good_ and nobody should pass on an opportunity to showcase a talent like that. Besides, I can think of at least one _side-benefit_ you'll definitely appreciate".

"What would that be?", Draco asked, brushing a hand on the back of his head. He was above the average _I.Q. level_ of a wizard or muggle his age, and it really bothered him when he failed to understand something. He'd recently discovered, however, that he didn't mind the things he didn't know to come out of this specific witch's mouth. " _The press demolishing my artistic ambitions?_ "

"We both know papers prefers _gossip_ over art, nowadays. Only three of them currently still dedicate space to the promotion of cultural events in wizarding England. There's _The Prophet_ , but it usually just provides information on locations and tickets' prices. They did make an exception for the Summer Festival, but their relationship with the Ministry was established somewhere around the beginning of all times", she scoffed. Apparently, her dislike for the title hadn't changed over the years. A wash of guilt flashed through Draco's blood as he remembered how he'd personally sold lies to Rita Skeeter during their fourth year, and he blushed, but she pretended not to notice. "Then there's _WitchWeekly_ , and the chief editor brings a copy of the issue to Theo before each print. He wouldn't let them disgrace his best friend, now _would he_? Besides, the guy who sets up the art section is a total wanker. There's never something really interesting in his articles, he'll probably won't even know about the showcase before _The Quibbler_ beats him on time and writes the piece. Xenophilius could have been a thorn in your side, but from what I've seen he doesn't hold a grudge. I'd personally go as far as to say he _likes_ you".

"Ok, let's say for a second that you're right. I still can't find the _side-benefit_ you mentioned", he said when she was done explaining her reasoning. Yes, it was flawless, but he was still missing the piece. "What is it?"

"Good Godric, Malfoys and their _profit_ ", she replied, teasingly.

" _Pretty please_?", he pouted. He wasn't proud of stealing his daughter's convincing techniques, but as a Slytherin he was willing to use just about _anything_ that _might_ have worked.

"Fine, _I'll tell you_ ", she conceded. "If the look she had on her face during our match at the Burrow is to be considered as reliable source, _Adhara would be very proud of you_. And I think _your parents_ would be happy for you, too", she added as an after-thought. She seemed on the verge of confessing _she_ would be proud, too, but Draco never heard the words coming out of her mouth.

The man cleared his throat, took a sip of his wine and focused his gaze on the empty plate in front of him, wishing they'd ordered the dessert with the rest of their dinner instead of choosing to wait.

Granger, _allegedly_ , had a problem with wasting food.

He guessed she had a point, considering there were places in the world where people couldn't afford to have _water_ in their homes, but having been raised as a _spoilt little Pureblood prince_ , he had become acquainted at a late age with concepts like _third world countries_.

He used to think of food as something that just happened to be in people's houses, something _House-Elves_ dealt with, something _granted_.

It had taken him a trip down to _hell_ and back, hunger eating him up inside the abandoned community centre, to realize his vision of reality had always been tainted, manipulated, blurred by his privileges. Moreover, it had always been _partial_.

"I guess you have a point", he conceded with a shrug. "Though I doubt she's old enough to comprehend light tricks and camera lenses".

"She's old enough to be _her daddy's biggest fan_. She'll love it, that is if you actually say _yes_ to the gallery, of course", she replied, carefully balancing her words. Hermione obviously didn't want to _pressure_ him, which he appreciated, but she also wasn't going to let him change the subject and never think about it again.

How exactly she'd figured out his plan so quickly was bound to remain a mystery to Draco.

The waitress who'd dealt with their table for the night, _Rachel_ , picked that moment to approach them again.

The two menus on her hands were smaller than those they'd been given previously; on one side of the sheets of paper were listed the desserts, while the other had wines and liquors on it.

The man ordered an exotic burned cream, whose flavour was bergamot tea with chocolate-dipped tangerines and pecans, as the brunette opted for the selection of iced fruit.

They found themselves in agreement as they asked for another bottle of the wine Gino had personally chosen for them.

* * *

Draco had discovered there were three things he and Hermione did together exceptionally well: _conversation_ , _substance-abuse_ and _sex_.

 _Facts_ supported his theory: the couple had opened and closed _ten_ different topics in barely thirty minutes, and even had a small argument in the process; the second bottle of wine had turned into a _third_ in half the time; though there was nothing they could do in Gino's backyard patio, they'd drifted closer and closer to each other, their chairs meeting in between, on another side of the table.

He was about to drop his act and kiss her _there_ , over the ashes of their dinner, as they approached the end of their first official date.

He had never considered himself particularly interested in _romance_ , but now he had a little more insight on the sappy novels his mother was so fond of; he had read many of them over the years, on nights either Adhara would feel ill and he'd watch over her or he'd be too tired to occupy himself with _proper_ literature.

Hermione let out a sigh. "I believe we're the _last_ customers standing".

She indicated the glass door that divided the porch from the main dining area, where all tables were empty and the staff was gathered near the host's workstation.

"They're waiting for us to leave to close the kitchen", Draco confirmed, giving a pointed look at the watch on his left wrist.

He couldn't believe just an hour was left until midnight.

The pair raised from their seats. Draco took his wallet to pay for the dinner, while Hermione fixed a couple of wrinkles on the skirt of her dress.

Her make-up was still perfectly in place, but her cheeks were now flushed, probably because of the wine – hopefully, because of some of the _cheeky_ things he'd said to her, too.

They walked back to the entrance of the restaurant in companionable silence and he was quite impressed by her ability to still walk _effortlessly_ (or at least, that's how she made it look) on top of the _death-traps_ on her feet.

He wasn't an expert on female fashion, but he was sure they were just as uncomfortable as heels could get.

"The dinner was _lovely_ ", he heard her compliment Gino as he handed the right amount of money to the waitress.

"As it was your presence here tonight", the man replied, a grin on his face.

When it came Draco's turn to say goodbye to his mentor, the muggle engulfed him in a one-arm hug before shaking his hand.

"Don't be a _stranger_ , Draco", he said. Gino pointed at Hermione with his free hand, then patted it on the back of the wizard's. "And don't let _this one_ go, not without a fight", he warned.

"That I won't do", he replied, spontaneously. Ignoring the blush that crept up on his cheeks and completely oblivious to the identical one Hermione sported on hers, he surrounded her shoulders with his arm and pulled her small frame closer to his much larger one. "Let's go, _I'll walk you home_ ", he whispered on her ear.

With a final wave of his hand at the staff's direction, the couple exited the restaurant.

They reached the desert street they'd earlier apparated to at a slow pace, and they were both _not_ ready to let the other ago.

Draco wasn't going to sleep with her tonight.

He knew Narcissa would have suspected something _odd_ was going on if he didn't return home to sleep for the _third_ day in a row, while Hermione had warned him that she had an appointment she couldn't postpone the following morning when he'd first invited her to go out.

He'd asked her on a date for a very specific reason: the witch wasn't as _open_ about her feelings as he'd always pictured her, preferring subtlety, but he knew she was deeply scarred; she didn't trust easily, if she did trust at all.

Draco wasn't hoping for her to suddenly change her habits, but there was something he wanted to prove: despite what people said about him, he wasn't a _player_ ; of course, he'd dated some women and had his fair share of _one-night-stands_ , but that was it.

No perpetual need to be inside of a female's body, no stack of weeping, heartbroken girls piling up outside the gates of the Manor.

Being a single parent and dating weren't two worlds who often collided, and to think he was already struggling by trying to _woo_ a single witch, calling in favours under the form of baby-sitting by every friend he could think of, coming up with new lies that were becoming increasingly hard to keep up with.

Their relationship was a secret between them, still, though he suspected she'd told Pansy about it and, _by extension_ , to Potter at some point.

He respected her need for privacy, as she practically lived under the spotlight, but the fact she'd felt the need to share her secret with her best friend gave him hope.

Perhaps he wasn't the only one _falling_. Maybe it went both ways.

The pair finally reached the apparition point, finding the street just as silent and free from human presence as it had been earlier in the evening and, really, every single time the former Slytherin had been there.

As she started looking for her wand in the purse, Draco gently grabbed her chin between two fingers, tilting her head up.

He looked deeply in her eyes, looking for any sign he should stop himself.

She smiled, sheepishly. "That was fun, Malfoy", she admitted. "Thank you for the dinner, I had a great time".

" _Yeah_ , me too", was all the man said before crashing his mouth on hers. He'd longed to kiss her since he'd first seen her, all pretty and dolled up in her shiny mini-dress. In one word, _gorgeous_.

It wasn't long before Hermione reciprocated the kiss, grabbing a fist of his hair, just above his hairline, in her small hand.

Her lips tasted of iced strawberries and he devoured them religiously, biting them seductively, taking advantage of her small gasp of pleasure to stick his tongue into her mouth.

She grabbed a hold of his waist with the hand that wasn't busy pulling at his hair, but the wizard knew it was only a matter of time before that hand would have moved under his shirt, looking for his abs.

It was a part of his body the witch seemed particularly _keen_ on cherishing, but he couldn't complain about that, as the trail of lavish kisses she placed there usually ended up somewhere else. _A little lower_.

Draco was really tempted to give up his original plan and dis-apparate both of them inside of her bedroom, but eventually he forced himself to stop his wandering hands, and removed them from her bum to place them on her sides, crossing his hands behind her back.

The reason behind him not following her to the penthouse was a simple one: he wanted to be able to kiss this beautiful face whenever he felt the need to do so, and the rates in which that happened were suspiciously high.

He wasn't looking for a friend, no matter how good the benefits.

Whenever he looked at her, every inch of his body itched for him to make things more _permanent_ , to allow himself to go _deeper_ with this relationship.

He wanted her to be his _girlfriend_.

The witch moaned softly in his mouth and, _Salazar was his witness_ , he was completely and utterly _fucked_.

 _What was the word, again? Whipped?_

He slowed down the kiss, then withdrew his head a little, resting his forehead on hers. " _Well, maybe I should-_ "

A loud _buzz_ interrupted him as Hermione's phone started roaring in her purse.

From the frown that suddenly appeared between her brunette brows, morphing her features into an expression of fear and concern, Draco concluded she was receiving bad news.

The man watched powerless as the witch answered the call, immediately recognizing the voice coming out of the device as Pansy's.

He couldn't hear what she was saying, but Hermione's gasp of shock before she quickly told her friend they'd be there in a couple of minutes, made Draco think about the _worst possible scenarios_.

"What happened?", he asked, breathlessly. "That was Pansy, right?"

" ** _Malfoy Manor has been attacked_** ", she informed him, her jaw tightly clenched. " _Let's go_ , Draco. _Now_ ", she ordered.

He didn't move. His eyes were fixed on a point on the stone pavement he wasn't really paying attention to. All he could think of was…

" _Adhara is perfectly fine_ , Pansy _swore_ it to me. Nobody has been injured", Hermione reassured him. " _C'mon_ , now. She mentioned _Fiendfyre_ and we both know that _the longer it spreads the nastier it gets_ ".

Draco nodded his head and they shared a knowing look before they both took out their wands, simultaneously spinning in a small circle and disappearing with a loud _POP!_ into thin air.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Here we go, second part of the double update!  
I really, really hoped you guys enjoyed it. (:  
I'm really sorry updates have become so slow,  
but I have less time to dedicate to my writing-hobby  
lately, and I'm mostly focusing on actually writing the  
story so that no matter how long it takes, I'll eventually  
be able to finish it. I hope 2019 started out on a positive  
note for you, and as usual, I'll see you next time. :)

( Thank you very much to all the people who reviewed or  
put this story in their followed/favorites (or even myself  
as a followed/favorite author!) It means a lot to me. )


	18. LAY LOW

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **18.**

 **LAY LOW**

 **.**

" _ _ _our rise it was no surprise, i always knew these fools would trip:  
hating, faking, scheming on mine, and on the down low talking shit  
best move 'cause i refuse to lose, no matter which damn road i choose  
(…) so lay low 'cause you might get bruised, top story on the evening news__ _"

* * *

 ** _( Malfoy Manor: the gardens – Wiltshire, England,  
September 18th, 2003, around 10:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

Narcissa furiously paced the stone pathway that lead from the gates to the main door of the castle through her personal gardens, a frown on her prettily aging face.

Her blue eyes kept darting from her family members to the flames that engulfed the Manor, holding the building in a lethal embrace.

The Malfoys were lucky Andromeda had invited them for dinner last-minute, otherwise they'd have probably been already in their beds when the fire had first started.

She threw a glance at Lucius, who was holding his grand-daughter in her arms, his fists tightly clenched in a protective stance.

The toddler was a shivering mess, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as she watched the _Fiendfyre_ rapidly climbing up the walls of the mansion, spreading in every direction.

The wizard had his gaze pierced on his family's estate, but he often looked up at the sky, where the Mark's green light shined brighter than the stars.

They didn't need the Aurors to come and tell them the fire had been set out on purpose, probably with the intention of killing the entire family, because they already knew that.

What Narcissa couldn't figure out, _yet_ , was who had been responsible for their attempted murder: Death Eaters in the highest ranks, those whom her husband had deemed as his equals in the past, were mostly locked away in _Azkaban_ , and even though they'd probably realized, by now, that some of their captures had been aided by Lucius providing information to the Ministry, what had happened was still odd and _unexplainable_.

Burning down houses with the hope their sleeping inhabitants would perish with them didn't sound like _Death Eater's standard modus operandi_ to her.

Tom Riddle's followers were known for their particularly sadistic techniques of torture, for the pleasure they got from mentally and physically toying with their victims.

A large part of the group had taken residence in the Manor after their master had done the same while Lucius was locked away in Azkaban, and she'd witnessed just what really those people were capable of.

Back in the day, she'd been shocked to discover what some of the men her husband had talked about as _upstanding_ , _influential_ wizards were really made of, and she'd obsessed over the thought of having married a monster.

Her top priority had always been Draco, and she felt like she was _failing_ her son by still loving the man whose decisions had led to his forearm being marked by _Him_ – and her little boy being cast away with muggles, of whom he knew nothing about, to lead a life of _misery_.

She was proud of how well he'd managed to play the awful cards he'd been dealt, but her heart still burned with outrage anytime she remembered the sleepless, haunted year in which all she'd been able to do was worrying herself _sick_ over the child she could not have any contact with, patiently waiting for Theodore or Blaise to send their owls after the rare occasions they'd accidentally bumped into Draco in muggle London.

Regardless, the system had proved to have just the same flaws the previous had showed: _prejudice_ , _abuse of power_ , laws designed to oppress _one side_ of the society while favouring the other.

After Lucius had been released, however, the blond witch had really believed it was possible for them to _start over_ , to enjoy the remaining half of their lives tucked away in their renovated mansion, growing old together as they took care of their son and his daughter.

Narcissa supposed she was lucky Draco had gone out that evening, too.

He'd have probably passed on an invitation for Sunday dinner with his aunt – he was _twenty-three_ , after all, and she remembered what family dinners felt like at that age – and invited Theodore or Blaise, or both, to join him for a brisk dinner and some drinks from his father's private collection.

For once, she was grateful for the many dinners _Pansy Parkinson_ forced him to attend: she could have very well saved his life tonight.

A loud _POP!_ behind her back forced the woman to turn around, where she was met by the dark-haired witch. Harry Potter was standing next to her, the arm perched underneath hers suggesting they had _side-apparated_ to come to the Manor.

"Narcissa!", Pansy squeaked. "I received your message! _What happened_? _Is everything okay_? What did you mean the _Dark Mark_ has been-", the flow of her questions stopped as she tilted her up and finally noticed the high, vicious flames surrounding the house. " _Fuck!_ "

" _Where is Draco?_ ", Narcissa inquired, ignoring both her questions and her _not-so-proper_ language. A frown of confusion on her face, the woman alternated her glance from Pansy to Harry to behind them, hoping Draco would have just come out of nowhere any moment now. " _Where is my son?_ ", she repeated, more firmly.

The younger witch pinched the bridge of her nose, then shared a look with her boyfriend. "Draco left my flat around an _hour_ ago, _Cissa_ ", she explained, softly. "I thought he was already back home by now?"

"I'm sure he just _detoured_ , Narcissa", Potter chimed in.

Lucius chose that moment to angrily stroll towards them, his eyes narrowed as he noticed _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ 's appearance.

The two wizards didn't see much of each other on a daily basis, and they'd had actually met on only three occasions: the _Hogwarts Reunion_ , the _Quidditch match_ at The Burrow and the _Summer Festival_ in Diagon Alley.

"Mr. Potter", he drawled in what was supposed to be his welcoming sentence. "Pansy, _where's Draco?_ ", he then asked, addressing the dark-haired witch.

"I have no clue about his whereabouts, if I have to be honest. He received a message on his phone just as he was leaving, so I can't possibly tell you if he's returned home like he said he would or went somewhere else. Have you checked with Blaise and Theodore?", Pansy inquired.

"That boy will be the _end_ of me", said Lucius. "And _yes_ , we've checked with both and they haven't seen or heard from him today. Same with _Goyle Jr._ and his wife, Mrs. Davis. Narcissa tested the wards and luckily no one is inside the Manor. The Elves have found shelter in the woods surrounding the property, but I don't know if the Aurors will come fast enough to stop the fire before it reaches the forest. Andromeda floo-called the Ministry almost an hour ago and no one has showed up, yet. From your appearance, Mr. Potter", he concluded, giving a pointed look at the dishevelled state of his clothes and the black mess on top of his head. "I'd say you're not here in an _official_ capacity".

"I wasn't until _now_ ", Harry smirked, unimpressed by the man's antics. "But the first Auror on a crime scene gets to take care of the case. And _that_ alone", he stated, seriously, indicating the Dark Mark that towered on them from its high position in the sky, " _It's a crime_. Now, if you'll _excuse me_ , I'm going to send an alert to the Minister, hopefully we'll get the necessary back-up in a reasonable time".

 _The-Chosen-One_ didn't wait for a reply: after kissing Pansy on her cheek and giving Narcissa a reassuring nod, he distanced himself from the rest of the group, approaching the main entrance and therefore the raging fire, his _11''_ of holly wood held tightly in his right hand.

A silver deer came out of the wand, dancing around its owner as he left a white, luminescent trail behind him. "Here's Auror Potter, I have an _emergency_ at Malfoy Manor, Whiltshire district. It's a _D.E._ _code emergency_ , send back-up as soon as possible".

His message was brief and authoritarian, and the Malfoy matriarch was immediately reassured by the hero's presence on their side.

She wouldn't put it past the Ministry to blame her family for the accident, while all she wished for was for the fire to stop, _damage-control_ to be put into motion and peace to be finally achieved. Perhaps, a little more _permanently_ this time.

She had convinced herself they were done with the blood and the danger when the war had finally ended, but now Narcissa could see how plain _naïve_ she'd been.

There were people holding grudges against the Malfoys on both sides of the war and she'd just received confirmation that some of them were willing to _act_ on their revengeful wishes.

The blonde witch knew they needed to carefully watch their backs from now on, or they couldn't be as lucky when the next attempt – because she was sure there would be _another_ one – on their lives took place.

Narcissa sighed, then proceeded to check the wards once again.

It was impossible for her to enter the building, the implacable flames surrounded it like a bubble, making it inaccessible from each and every door or window, but she still needed to make sure, one last time, that her son wasn't inside the Manor.

As her wand communicated her the results of her analysis, two _POP!s_ alerted her and everybody else of the presence of two new magical beings.

" _What the fuck is happening here?_ ", thundered a familiar voice.

Narcissa turned on her heels and felt her heart jump on her chest.

" _May the Druids bless your soul!_ ", she screeched, looking at her son's face with a devotion that would have made a stranger think she hadn't seen her offspring in a decade. " _Where have you been, my dear? I was so worried-_ "

The woman blinked, finally noticing the witch on his side.

"Good evening, Narcissa", Hermione said, a small smile on her lips. Her gaze nervously drifted from Pansy, to Harry and ultimately to Draco.

* * *

Many things could be said about her, like that she was self-absorbed and too cheeky in the way she approached other people, but Pansy Parkinson was extremely perceptive to the world around her, especially when she had the people she cared about to look out for.

Even if she didn't know about their date, she could still tell Draco and Hermione had arrived together to the current site.

 _Dis-apparating_ on their own had been a nice try on their part, that much she could admit, but it was clearly obvious what really had happened.

She had alerted Hermione, and Hermione, being with him, had told Draco about the accident.

Now she was curious to see how she could possibly lie her way out of it, as Pansy knew Narcissa could be incredibly astute, but decided to help her nonetheless.

She was awfully _loyal_ to the brunette witch: after all, she was the person, besides from Harry, she was the closest with.

Funny how two of the most important people in her life belonged to _Godric_ 's House of them all.

"Hermione! Thank you _so much_ for coming. I didn't know who else to call for _help_ ", she emphatically said, then looked at Draco and pouted, serving her assist. "I was worried sick about you, _Drake_! You were supposed to return home after dinner! I thought you were _inside_ , for _Merlin's shaved balls_!"

Pansy breathed out a sigh of relief, mentally patting herself in the back for her _exquisite_ acting abilities: almost a decade of _cunning for breakfast, lunch and dinner_ at Slytherin's table combined with years of experience as _MagiTech's Head of Public Relations_ , had taught the witch a thing or two.

Just as Hermione started to say there was no problem in being called for the rescue and that she would be glad to help, Draco chimed in with a low drawl of his voice. " _Mother, Father_ , I'm sorry for coming so late. There's a business matter I wanted to discuss with Granger and she was kind enough to spare me some of her _free_ time, considering her agenda is quite busy", he apologized.

Narcissa's features rapidly softened and she smiled at her only son, but Lucius was a completely different matter: he kept sending daggers at his heir and Pansy wondered how he could possibly look so _menacing_ while rocking a toddler in his arms.

"We'll have time to discuss your _unacceptable behaviour_ later, Draco", his father scoffed.

"It's my fault, _really_ ", Hermione prompted, unapologetically. "We'd scheduled a meeting for tomorrow morning but something rather urgent came up in _Australia_ , so my presence will be required in Sydney tomorrow", she supplied.

"He still could have answered his mother's calls", Lucius fired back. "Since Draco is obviously so keen on exploring the _muggle_ environment, he could at least use the _bloody_ **_telephonine_** when he's not home and spare his mother a _heart-attack!_ "

"At least one of us has proper knowledge of the _muggle environment_ you mentioned", Draco scolded. " _Spoiler alert_ , it's not you. Otherwise, you'd know a _telephone_ doesn't have endless energy and it needs to be recharged daily. The _sodding_ battery run out of power".

An incredulous frown morphed Lucius' features into an even more enraged expression, very likely because of the defiant attitude his heir was sporting towards him, but he kept quiet as his wife swatted a hand on his arm.

" _Enough_ , Lucius. Let the _boy_ explain himself", she chastised.

Pansy struggled to contain her giggles. Draco was such a _mama's boy_.

"The only thing that mattered is that you're _safe_ ", Narcissa continued, caressing his frame with her eyes. "Hermione, I'm sorry you've been bothered. As of now, we have _no idea_ of what's exactly happening here, I'm afraid".

"Something's off with the _fire_ ", Harry hazarded. Five different pair of eyes looked at him, and he nervously scratched the back of his neck. "The flames are _all over_ the perimeter of the house, but they haven't found a way to sneak inside, yet. It's _weird_ ", he mused. "They're _burning_ super hard, but they don't seem able to actually _burn_ something. I checked before I sent my _Patronus_ to the Ministry and it's definitely _Fiendfyre_ , but it's strangely… _muted_ ".

Pansy squeezed his hip, while Hermione beamed proudly at him for completing his homework. From the way he'd slacked with his essays and tests at Hogwarts, nobody would have guessed he'd become such an informed, scrupulous Auror.

"That's definitely _weird_ ", agreed Draco, who was now retrieving his sleeping daughter from her grandfather's arms.

They'd studied the enchantment together during the brief time the blond had entered Auror training at the end of his probation, and the spell was known to do a lot more damage than what it was currently provoking.

" _Hey, sweetheart_ ", he cooed at the child when she opened her pretty blue eyes, a smile on her face as she firstly spotted her daddy, but the cheeks still streaked by the tears she'd shed before falling asleep, as she'd watched the flames enveloping her home. " _No, no, no. Don't cry, baby. You're safe now_ ", he reassured her, whispering the soothing words in her ear.

Adhara was now holding on her father's neck for dear life, and she seemed on the verge of having a crisis. " _Make it stop, daddy!_ ", she cried out, pointing a chubby figure at the mansion. " _Make it stop!_ "

" _It's ok, Adhara_ ", said Hermione, slowly walking towards the pair. "Don't worry, darling. _I_ can make it stop", she stated, simply.

While those who weren't exactly aware of the kind of _magical prowess_ the brunette actually possessed gaped, Pansy just waited for the witch to explain herself.

She'd never seen the _true_ extent of her power in matters which didn't imply _research_ , or the development of _new tech_ , but she'd heard the whispers about the secret department of _MagiTech_ who allegedly developed all kinds of weapons, both muggle and magical, but also _highly sophisticated_ offensive spells.

Victoria Sallow was rumoured to possess her own personal _N.R.A_., though its purpose was unknown and the products of this department had never hit any market.

Despite her denying the rumour whenever she'd been asked about it, Pansy always suspected there was some truth to it.

Hermione was the most _lethal_ person who ever walked on earth, and on some levels, Voldemort and Grindelwald could only borrow a couple pages from her book, if it came to magical strength.

"You still have the bracelet I gave you, right?", she asked.

Adhara nodded with her head, then lifted one arm from where it crossed with the other on the back of Draco's neck, and shook her wrist.

The gold jewellery shined in the dark, and the Manor's wards vibrated behind their feet. "Would you mind if I _borrow_ it for a second?", Hermione requested, her voice calm and peaceful as she addressed the child. "I promise I'll give it back to you very quickly", she reassured.

Adhara threw an undecisive glance at the bracelet, then looked up at Draco, who nodded in agreement, and she extended her arm.

As soon as the bracelet was unhooked from her arm, Hermione turned on her heels and strolled down the stone pathway, heading to the main entrance.

" _Are you crazy_ , _Hermione?_ ", called Harry from behind her back as he set off after her.

"It's an _Advanced Shield Charm_ ", she shouted, raising the hand that held the piece of jewellery. "The fire is trapped on both sides by a defensive _bubble_ on the perimeter of the house, it'll take a little while to completely extinguish it".

Without a glance back, she commanded the main door to open for her, and easily stepped inside the Manor.

The flames were all around her, but she walked down the corridor and disappeared from their sight, _untouched_ by them.

 _How_ she was doing that, _nobody could tell_.

" _She'll be fine_ ", Pansy reassured the rest of the crowd. " _Hermione knows what she's doing_ ".

* * *

 _Indeed_ , Hermione had a very _specific_ course of action in mind.

When she'd first gifted Adhara the little gold bracelet to which she'd added her own _Shielding Charm_ , which offered _unbreakable_ protection, she hadn't imagined a circumstance like the present to occur.

After Daphne had been attacked and the _Dark Mark_ casted on Diagon Alley, Hermione knew the Malfoy family would have been targeted at some point in this new wave of _Death-Eater_ 's violence.

Draco and Lucius were the most obvious targets, but it was notorious how Riddle's sidekicks often went after their enemies' families in order to achieve their goals.

The witch had felt the _visceral_ need to place some kind of _protection_ on Draco's child, and she'd bought the gold bracelet without thinking about it twice.

She hadn't told Draco about the spell she'd added to it, but merely because she hoped the shield would never feel the need to activate itself.

It was designed to react to _serious danger_ , and the strength with which the magical bubble had enveloped the mansion gave away the real power of the person who'd casted the _Fiendfyre_.

Whoever that was, and no one among the Death Eaters still _out_ of _Azkaban_ was known to possess that much prowess, the intention had been to wipe away the Malfoy family from the face of earth, which was deeply concerning.

Hermione Granger was definitely _crossed_ , and they were going to regret their ludicrous attempts to bring chaos back in the wizarding world ( _again_ ).

 _Seriously_ , why couldn't _Death-Eaters_ just learn their lesson? They were _bound_ to be defeated, no matter how hard they tried.

They didn't succeed when they were at their strongest, with _Voldemort_ leading them, they definitely weren't going to succeed now that the _good side_ could count on her new powers.

The witch strolled down the corridors of Malfoy Manor at a quick pace, the floor-plan perfectly clear in her head at least where the first floor was concerned, and quickly found the room she was looking for.

From the intensity of the flames she could still see outside of the windows, the _Fiendfyre_ had probably been burning for approximately an hour.

It was too late for her to put the fire off with _no damage_ , but she was brilliant enough to shrink it down to the _smallest_ it could be.

 _One room_ had to be sacrificed, and since Hermione appreciated the _irony,_ it was obviously going to be the parlour in which Bellatrix had tortured her.

The lock on the door didn't set her back.

She canalized some energy on her fingertips, then slightly brush the metal.

The iron clicked open, and she put her hand on the dusty handle.

The parlour was just like he remembered it: grey walls, dark marble floors, two black, tufted armchairs surrounded an old, wooden chessboard on one side of the fireplace, while an expensive-looking sofa towered in the middle of the room, next to a vintage cocktail table and a Persian carpet whose bright colours blended seamlessly in the general scheme of the room.

Her knees threatened to fail her as she walked past the point in which she'd been so viciously _(wo)man-handled_ by the mad witch.

Pursing her lips, Hermione aimed her wand and the marble cracked, revealing a second layer of pavement beneath it, made of the same material.

She gave an unimpressed look at the _bloodstain_ the Malfoys hadn't managed to scrub away from the floor.

A flash of pain jolted in her right forearm, where Bellatrix had carved the word _Mudblood_ on her skin.

Again, she appreciated the _irony_.

On the back of the room, in the middle of two twin doors who led somewhere she'd never been, sat a magnificent piano.

It was very old and probably worth a fortune, and for a moment she considered saving the valuable piece.

Hermione shook her head and occupied the bench behind it, frowning slightly at the thick layer of dust on top of the keyboard.

With a snap of her fingers the piano was brought back to a pristine condition and properly tuned; she caressed the white keys with quivering hands, then placed Adhara's bracelet on top of the cover.

As soon as she began playing, her fingers moving effortlessly on the keyboard even though she hadn't seriously indulged in the activity in quite some time, she focused part of her energies on the piece of jewellery, slowly releasing the shield, part on the _Fiendfyre_.

The dark spell was a positively _vicious_ one: it could be hold back, she could potentially keep it inside of the bubble for years, but it couldn't be extinguished until it had reached its purpose.

 _Destruction_.

Hermione was happy to let the parlour be destroyed.

It was a _poetic_ conclusion, really: allegedly _new Death-Eaters_ had pulled off the attack, and now she was vanishing it as well as she was finally getting rid of the last obstacle on her recovery from the torture of an _old, proper Death-Eater_.

The woman released a powerful wave of magic, which run and expanded through the fire to the point the two could no longer be distinguished.

Her magical signature had the same _pale_ , _white-gold_ _colour_ of moonlight, and soon enough, as she reached the part of the music sheet she had memorized perfectly almost a decade before that was her personal favourite, all doors and windows in the Manor shot open.

The flames were responding to her call without much effort on her part, aided by the emotional struggle conveyed in the melody: the aim of the spell had been that to kill something living and breathing, and right now she was just the perfect bait.

The witch's mind was sharp with attention, carefully trailing the path for the _Fiendfyre_ to follow, but her heart was solely focused on the song.

 _Nocturnes, Op. 9: No. 2 in E-Flat Major_. _Fryderyk Franciszek Chopin_.

A choice that could never be _trivial_.

A voice she hadn't heard in the longest time echoed in her voice, and as the closure of the piece approached, she found herself emotionally drained.

Hermione hadn't thought of her _piano teacher_ in years, but she'd always _treasured_ the memory: the man had been an excellent professor and he'd stirred a visceral passion for the instrument in her.

The lessons had started when she was barely five years old, and the piano had been the only friend she had, besides from her books, until she'd boarded the _Hogwarts Express_ and met _Neville Longbottom_ : she'd continued training with _Mr. Boyer_ throughout her years in Hogwarts, during summer-breaks and winter holidays, but she'd been forced to stop when she'd went on the hunt for the _Horcruxes_ with Harry and Ron.

She'd gone to his house at the end of the war, but the new owners had told her he'd moved to America; later they'd asked if she happened to be _Hermione Granger_ , and that the man had left said to give the exquisite piano currently sitting in the basement to her.

It was the one she kept in her penthouse.

The flames were now disposed in a circle around her: they couldn't touch her, but the temperature was raising high.

A deep frown of concentration on her forehead, Hermione had five notes to play before the end of the melody: _one_ , she took a deep breath; _two_ , she gave one last thought to her teacher, hoping he was doing fine with his new life and mentally thanking him again for the gift, as all her letters had returned to her, _unopened_ and _undelivered_ ; _three_ , she glared at the bloodstain on the floor she'd dug out earlier; _four_ , as she approached the final note, one hand moved away from the keyboard, she grabbed Adhara's bracelet in her hand; _five_ , she gave the flames the order to _burn_.

Hermione _dis-apparated_ back to the gates.

* * *

As soon as his granddaughter had been taken from his arms, Lucius had substituted his wife in the task of furiously pacing down the stone pathway.

He hated the sensation of utter _powerlessness_ he was experiencing.

His house was surrounded by _Fiendfyre_ and his family was safe out of _sheer luck_ : if they'd been at home, with the Ministry still in possession of his wand there was nothing he could have done to defend his blood from the aggression.

The oldest Malfoy glared, astonished, as Hermione ran towards the house with Potter in tow a couple feet behind, easily stepped inside the flames and disappeared in the main corridor.

As Pansy and Draco consulted each other on what exactly the brunette witch was trying to do and _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ yelled and cursed at the fire for preventing him access to the mansion, Narcissa silently joined him.

"It'll be fine. We're all safe and the Manor hasn't been damaged", she pointed out. "There's nothing to worry about".

"We still don't know _who_ did this, though I'm fairly certain of _why_ it has been done in the first place. Besides, _the girl_ is still inside", he stated, _matter-of-factly_ , doing his best to hide the concern laced in his voice.

" _Eloise_ knows what she's doing, Lucius", Narcissa replied, a twinkle in her eyes that told him he hadn't been able, once more, to mask his feelings with his wife. " _I promise we'll sort this out_ ".

He absently nodded his head, then extended one arm and grabbed her shoulder, pulling the woman to his chest.

Inhaling deeply the sweet scent of her hair, in the tender point where her hairline met the back of her ear, Lucius tried to recollect himself.

He could try to fool himself, _of course_. He could repeat in his mind over and over again that he didn't care about what happened to her, and eventually the message would have probably stick to him.

The technique had worked wonders in the past, when Abraxas had used it to indoctrinate his son and made him a proper _Pureblood heir_.

It had worked with Draco, to some extent, when he'd been _too young to question_ what his father expected of him.

A total amount of _six years in Azkaban_ , though in two _comfortable_ installments, had taught him the hard way that suffocating someone's feelings only did an extreme amount of damage.

It was perfectly fine for him to be worried about the witch who was currently risking her life to save his family's ancestral home: though he had no doubt she had the means and abilities to pull this one off, otherwise she'd have never tried it, Lucius was still baffled at how easily she'd put herself _on the line_ for them.

She was supposed to _hate_ his family and he couldn't blame her if she did: his son had bullied her in school because of her _alleged_ heritage, which he was begrudgingly beginning to admit had _no importance_ ; at age twelve she'd been petrified because of the Basilisk _he_ 'd helped awakening, while three years later she'd been seriously wounded in the _Battle at the Ministry_ he'd been the leader of; on top of that, she'd suffered from Bellatrix's _Cruciatus Curse_ under his own roof.

Now she was showing _kindness_ – it wasn't even the first time, as she'd been immensely helpful in setting the conditions of his stay in _Azkaban_ , though nobody was aware of that, not even his family – and he was just… _moved_.

He'd promised to the closest thing he'd ever had to _friends_ that he'd have watched over her and protect his goddaughter.

Despite circumstances keeping her so distant in the past twenty-three years, Lucius Malfoy was now determined to keep his promise.

That was the kind of man he'd discovered he _wanted_ to be.

He cringed when the thought _Arthur Weasley_ was a _better_ role-model than his father passed his mind.

The umpteenth _POP!_ of the night echoed in the air and Lucius glanced on the right, where Blaise Zabini had just appeared.

"I received your call, Narcissa", the young man said, simply. Then his eyes shifted on the Manor, therefore on the _Dark Mark_ in the sky, and he gasped. " _What's going on here?_ "

" _Blaise_ , _dear_ , I'm sorry I've bothered you", the woman cooed, trying to calm him down. They'd watched this scene one too many times that night and he was grateful she was trying to avoid _another_ repeat. "Luckily we were at Andromeda's and Draco was with Hermione when _whoever_ attacked casted the _Fiendfyre_ , and even more so a gift she'd given to Adhara apparently managed to protect the Manor. I'm afraid I can't share the specifics with you, _yet_ , as I have no idea of what's currently happening, but I'd say we've moved past the worst part of the evening", she tried to reassure him, briefly summarizing the details she was sure of.

Many things about both the offence and the _defense_ weren't clear to her, and she hoped she could have a talk with the brunette witch very soon.

"Was anyone hurt?", Blaise urged, the dark-brown eyes rapidly scanning the garden area. He breathed out a sigh a relief when he spotted Draco and Adhara's frames but frowned when he noticed that Pansy and Harry were there, too.

"Nobody was wounded _physically_ ", said Lucius.

"Draco had dinner _at Pansy's_ , tonight", added Narcissa. "He wasn't answering his phone and I panicked. Fortunately, he wasn't home _either_ when the attack occurred".

Before the wizard could say anything in reply, another _POP!_ announced the arrival of yet another guest.

The Malfoy patriarch rolled his eyes, then cringed as he spotted Theodore, who was accompanied by a blonde girl with a familiar face.

He had every right to be there. It was _his sister_ the one _inside_ the building.

 _Old habits died extremely hard_.

As he straightened his posture and prepared himself to talk so that he could be up to date, too, the sound of a piano filled the air.

Just as the melody became louder and louder, melancholic and exquisite, something shifted in the _Fiendfyre_ , and the flames climbed down the walls of the Manor, trailing back their original path.

They descended to the ground, where they burned with higher intensity, but left the terrain untouched.

The fire danced its way to the main entrance from all over the perimeter of the mansion, channelling itself in a long spiral.

As the melody grew steadier the flames disappeared, turning on the left of the main corridor, and what they were left with were the song playing in the air and the Dark Mark in the sky.

He wasn't impressed by the _sight,_ as he'd casted it more than once in his life, but he'd wished for Adhara to never see it.

Lucius listened carefully, captured by the song, and nearly missed the trail of white-gold magic that enveloped the Manor.

When the music stopped, everyone held their breaths.

Then the loud sound of something huge falling into pieces filled the air, followed by the _ever-so-blessed_ apparition noise who brought Hermione Granger back to the gardens.

" _It's all clear_ ", she announced, her face an emotionless mask.

" _H-Hermione?_ ", Theo called, gaping, his voice laced with confusion.

"Oh, _hello, brother_ ", she greeted, and her expression softened. The brunette smiled when she noticed he was holding hands with the blonde girl next to him, but she didn't address the subject. "It's all good, _now_. There's been some poor attempt at _ending_ the Malfoy line", she shrugged. "Nothing _I_ couldn't take care of, _anyway_ ".

Hermione walked past the couple and gently squeezed her brother's shoulder before approaching Draco, Pansy and Adhara, who'd just been joined by Harry, too.

Lucius noticed she had one hand clenched in a fist only when she opened it in front of his granddaughter's face, revealing the bracelet she'd loaned from the toddler: next to the first little pendant, the one they'd discovered it contained some variation of a very powerful _Shielding Charm_ , which had the shape of a star, was now accompanied by a second trinket, a _treble clef_.

Adhara giggled when she placed the bracelet back on her wrist, and threw her arms at the witch to hug her.

As of now, Draco and Hermione were standing awkwardly close to each other, the child acting as a bridge between them.

Lucius smirked.

Draco believed he hadn't figured out his son had _the_ _hots_ for the beautiful witch, but he couldn't be more wrong.

He'd _always_ known.

Pulling away from the hug and smiling at the toddler, Hermione broke the silence once again. "I'll take my leave, now. I have an early appointment in the morning and I better go get some rest. Please, someone keeps me updated on the investigations of the attack".

Speaking no further, the witch grabbed a hold of her wand and spun in a circle, dis-apparating away.

" _Did she just?_ ", was Theodore's astonished question.

"Just give her some time", murmured soothingly the girl next to him.

Hearing her voice, the gears in his head finally did their math, and Lucius eventually recognized the witch: it was _Luna Lovegood_ , the young girl Voldemort had kidnapped and held prisoner in the Manor to get emotional leverage on her father, whom he suspected was bound to be visited by the Golden Trio.

Lucius cringed once more. "We should go back inside, check the state of the property", he suggested, hesitantly. "Perhaps have the Elves gather some refreshments _whenever_ they return?"

* * *

Harry didn't know what to think.

He was currently at Malfoy Manor, _sipping tea_ from Narcissa's finest porcelain cups, sitting next to his fiancée on a surprisingly comfortable sofa.

On top of that, he was _enjoying_ himself.

Not that there was something wrong with that, per se; he'd visited the woman who'd saved his life, therefore determining the outcome of the war, at least _once a month_ in the past five years.

Their tea-appointments had been even more frequent in the year the witch's son had been away: Narcissa needed someone to take care of, and Harry thoroughly enjoyed her company.

It was nice to talk to someone who didn't make _assumptions_ about his feelings. _It was a nice, very welcome change_.

He loved his friends, the _Weasleys_ and all the people he'd meet in Hogwarts or in the Order, but sometimes he had the feeling that among all the witches he knew, Narcissa Malfoy was the one with the _closest_ resemblance to _Lily Potter._

After all, she'd been willing to sacrifice everything and everyone to save her own son, and she'd fought fiercely to protect her family, just as much as his own mother had done, facing Voldemort with her head held high.

There was something different today about the Manor's sitting room he'd grown so accustomed to: _the guests_.

Sitting on three separate armchairs were Blaise, Theodore and Luna, who were still rather confused about the attack on the very grounds they were standing on, more so about Hermione's involvement in it.

"I hope the investigations will be thorough and meticulous, _Mr. Potter_ ".

The person whose presence was bothering him the most had just spoken, _white-blond_ hair shining under the soft light coming from the chandelier.

Lucius Malfoy was sitting next to his wife, playing nervously with the lower trim of the upper-part of his robe.

He hadn't touched the cup of tea Narcissa had served for him.

The Elves still hadn't returned.

"I'm sure the Aurors will give this case the _proper_ attention", Luna spoke up, gracefully placing the empty china on the coffee table in front of her. " _Fiendfyre_ is supposed to be _un-extinguishable_ , that's why it's considered a dark spell and wizards generally avoid to cast it".

"Thank you for the _Charms lesson_ , _Mrs_?", said Lucius, voice veiled with sarcasm.

Before Harry could invite the man to _fuck himself_ , because he shouldn't be so _damn rude_ to a girl who'd been held prisoner in his home, it was Nott who cleared his throat and glared at the man.

"Would you tell me what my sister was doing here, _Lucius_?", he asked.

"I'm the one who _dragged_ her here. When Pansy called and told her about the fire and the mark I kind of panicked. I'm sorry, mate".

Draco's voice was coming from the door.

He'd left half an hour before to put his daughter to bed and the air had been so tense since then that Harry had completely forgotten about his presence in the mansion.

He watched as Theodore's lips twitched in anger before he forced himself to nod. " _What happened_?"

" _We don't know much, yet_ ", intervened Narcissa, "Whoever did this, they left long before we returned from Andromeda's. Luckily enough, Draco was out having dinner at Pansy's".

 _But he wasn't_.

As the thought crossed his mind, he couldn't _un-think_ it.

Today was Harry's day off from work, and he had spent the entire evening at his girlfriend's flat.

If Malfoy had been present during the pleasurable activity they'd engaged on the kitchen's counter, he would have remembered _that_.

During his sixth year he'd kept a constant eye on the Malfoy heir, studying his movements and facial expressions until they were burned in his mind, so he was pretty sure he could tell when he was lying to his mother (especially considering he knew _for a fact_ that he was).

 _Why?_

The blond wizard walked the distance between himself and the only empty armchair that was left, propping himself down on the soft cushion.

The man was dressed way too well for a simple " _dinner at Pansy's_ ", as he'd called it, and the slight blush on his cheeks gave away the fact he'd been drinking.

 _He was with Hermione._

Thinking of her name, Harry's anger came back tenfold.

He was incredibly pissed off with the witch for throwing herself into the fire, no matter how she'd came out of it untarnished.

He was in need of some explanations from his friend, and he made a mental note of getting them as soon as possible.

For now, however, he was fine with just shaking the waters a little.

 _The-Boy-Who-Lived_ grabbed his _Mirror-phone_ from the left back-pocket of his jeans where he usually kept it, then searched for Hermione's contact in his phonebook and pressed " _call_ ".

He waited patiently for her to pick up, but she didn't.

Keeping a careful eye on Draco's reaction, he winked at Pansy before he readied himself to leave a message in her voicemail.

"I'm sure you know that you can't just _disappear_ like that. I want an _explanation_ and you know I _deserve_ one. Call me back as soon as you get this", he registered. " _Oh, and Hermione?_ Happy _fucking_ birthday".

That was it. The little twitch in Malfoy's steel eyes as he spoke. " _It's Granger's birthday?_ "

 _Gotch'ya_.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, guys! Sorry for leaving you waiting this long,  
but it's the time of the year where I unfortunately  
need to keep my priorities straight (I had a an exam  
this week, which I passed, but my anxiety is as far as  
possible from being under control, so yeah, that sucks).  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter just as much as I did  
enjoy writing it (I'd say it's one of my favourites, but I  
kind of like the 2 that are coming next more).  
As usual, I hope you're having a great day/week/month  
and thank you very much to all the people who took  
their time to write me a review (or add this story to their  
followed/favorites section), it means a lot to me! :))

p.s. a preview of the next chapter will be posted on my  
tumblr (godisawitchfic dot tumblr dot com) later today,  
so stay tuned for that! And if you also want to help me  
shape the next chapters I'll write, please vote in the poll  
you can find on my bio here on fanfic. 'K, byeee!


	19. ALL HANDS ON DECK

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **19.**

 **ALL HANDS ON DECK**

 **.**

" _ _ _wasted heart, you took the last bit of love i've ever had,  
you took a good girl and you turned me oh so bad,  
kiss your old bae goodbye, she's dead and gone (…)  
and you know that I tried, really gave my all (…)  
everything we built, baby, you let it fall___"

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Victoria Street n. 23: The Penthouse  
_** ** _London, England_** ** _, September 19th, 2003, 08:15 a.m. )_**

* * *

Hermione woke up from her nightmare as the first light of day filtered through the heavy curtains draped around the windows of the master bedroom.

The penthouse that functioned as her London residence was very bright in the morning but usually, being the secret _lazy-ass_ that she happened to be, she could sleep all the way through noon when her schedule allowed it, the sunlight not bothering her in the least.

The witch sighed, burying her head under the silk sheets.

She wasn't looking forward to her meeting, but she knew she couldn't postpone it anymore: after Daphne had been attacked, she'd re-scheduled her meeting with Lex due to both her trips to the hospital and the private investigation she was carrying on the accident, and she'd left her secretary back in Sydney to find a new arrangement.

One would have thought nobody in their right mind would settle on her ( _fake_ ) _birthday_ for a meeting with her _fraudulent ex-husband_ , but she'd done just that.

Hermione hoped Celeste was enjoying the boring internship in the middle of nowhere that she'd made sure she would win.

First things first, she drank her coffee, a small cup with two teaspoons of sugar, extra hot.

Then she took a long, steamy shower in the ridiculous attempt to wash away her nervousness; it was funny, actually: the same task had taken her less time the night before, when she'd showered after finding herself in the middle of a burning castle.

With a fluffy towel wrapped around her body, she spent fifteen minutes in her walk-in wardrobe before she could finally settle on an all-black outfit she deemed appropriate enough: pairing a camisole with see-through sleeves and a deep V-neckline with a high-waist pencil skirt, she added a pair of black pumps and a red clutch.

She tied up her hair in a loose bun, while two tufts were braided and pinched back to the crown of her head.

Keeping the make-up to a minimum, she had still indulged in a deep burgundy colour for her lipstick.

Leaving her apartment, eager to have a nice breakfast before her coffee appointment with Lex, she was sure all appetite would be gone as soon as she saw him, Hermione grabbed the only informal piece of her look: a _Schott Perfecto_ **[4]** _leather jacket_.

She walked a couple of streets before she finally found a muggle cab, which accompanied her to the muggle entrance of the Leaky Cauldron.

Since Lex was going to be landing in England with an official Ministry Port-Key, he was banned from entering the muggle world, as there would have been no record of his arrival in their systems.

She'd given him appointment at _Fortescue_ 's for approximately half an hour after his official landing in British territory, but considering he'd never visited Diagon Alley, or Great Britain, she hoped he would be late.

Hermione had agreed to see him, but it didn't mean she actually _wanted_ to.

She ordered her second cup of coffee for the day and a chocolate-filled croissant when the waitress approached the table, and she absentmindedly noticed her voice sounded familiar when she gave her order, not bothering giving her a second look as she skimmed through the dozens of messages she'd received since the night before.

Oldest to newest, there were five messages from Pansy, one wishing her happy birthday, three asking if she was feeling well and one to confirm their plans for that night, six from Theodore, each demanding to call him as soon as she could, one from Luna, with congratulations and an offer for her shoulder to cry on, two missed calls from Narcissa Malfoy and a voicemail from Harry.

There was a long, thoughtful message from Draco, too, in which he apologized for not knowing about her birthday and asked if there was something she would like to do to celebrate, but also thanking her for whatever she'd done to the _Fiendfyre_ the night before, demanding she would actually explain what that had been in the future, and suggesting they'd meet and talk about all of the above.

He'd signed the message at the end, which was quite odd for a chat, and the _Yours, truly_ preceding his name had made her blush like the average sappy teenager.

She promptly answered the text, though not agreeing to any of his requests, and her mood was dramatically improving as she set out to give a reply to the other people who'd expressed concern for her.

The chair next to hers scraped on the old parquet of the _Ice-Cream Parlour_ , and reality dawned on Hermione once again.

Tilting her head up, she was met by her ex's devilish grin.

The man was going for his thirties and like always, the first thing she thought when her eyes looked up at his face, was that he looked positively _edible_ : the wizard was a fine specimen, icy blue eyes and deep brown hair of medium length, with high cheekbones and a squared jaw; his smile was charming and allusive, exposing a line of perfect white teeth surrounded by pink, plum lips.

He was growing a beard, now, and she begrudgingly admitted that it suited him: it was well-trimmed and it gracefully enhanced his facial features.

" _It's good to see you, Vic_ ".

* * *

Hermione returned to her apartment at 11 a.m. sharp with the same cab she'd used to reach the Leaky Cauldron earlier that morning, whose driver had the kindness to drop her out in front of the main entrance, which granted him a nice tip.

The meeting with Lex hadn't been exactly what she'd anticipated, and her fucking bleeding-heart had _de facto_ felt sorry for him at some point of his narration, but now she had more questions than before, and _very little_ to _less_ new information on how to get her revenge.

She'd been extremely serious when telling Pansy that she'd have _destroyed_ August Martin.

Perhaps she didn't have much of a plan as of right now, but she wasn't exactly lacking in enthusiasm or determination.

Hermione _treasured_ her company: she'd built _MagiTech_ from scratch, without any help, the only rabbit in her hat being the brilliance of her mind.

It was her _baby_ , to some extent, and she could be rather fierce when someone tried to play games and mess with it, or worse, take it away from her.

If others wanted to be as successful as her, they might as well buy themselves a _genius brain_ – with all the downsides it implied – of their own.

Mr. Martin's attempt hadn't been the first and surely wasn't going to be the last, but she was keen on making an _example_ out of him.

On her way to the lift the former Gryffindor said hello to the concierge, who smiled at her and handed her the correspondence the muggle post service had delivered for her that morning.

One of the reasons she had chosen the Penthouse, besides from the apartment being her favourite in the whole complex, was that she had quickly managed to set up an owlery, though she was glad a growing number of wizards and witches had started using Mirror, so that she could keep in touch with everyone from the same, compact device.

Hermione had never given the fact much thought before, but there was some truth to the lines she'd come up with to promote the product: it really made people's lives easier.

She scammed through the letters as she rode up to the last floor in the glass lift, the paper tightly clenched in her hands.

The first four letters weren't particularly interesting, merely birthday wishes from old acquaintances and business partners, but the name written on the back of the last one caused her heart to skip a beat.

All of a sudden, her lungs were crying for air, and her hand barely managed to get a hold on the supportive metal bar when the lift stopped and she simultaneously caught her reflection in its glass walls.

Despite the care Hermione had put in her appearance this morning, she thought she looked rather horrible now: some strays of hair had fallen off from her coiffure, her lipstick was slightly smeared in her cupid's bow's proximity thanks to Lex's attempt at kissing her goodbye, and there were three drop-stains of coffee on her skirt.

Her legs felt extremely heavy as she walked the distance between the lift and the Penthouse's entrance door: hers was the only apartment in the top two floors of the impressive, neoclassical building, so she didn't bother hiding the single tear falling down her right cheek.

Closing the door behind her back, Hermione allowed herself to slowly slide down to the floor, knees bending so that her lower back could rest on her ankles.

Ripping through the paper envelope, she disregarded the birthday cards to read the letter who'd caused such an emotional response on her part.

She hadn't heard from _William Granger_ in two years.

 _Dear Hermione_.

The witch broke down in sobs.

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Victoria Street n. 23: The Penthouse,  
_** ** _London, England_** ** _, September 19th, 2003, 14:45 p.m. )_**

* * *

Her left foot was tapping against the marble floor, her stilettos producing a rather menacing noise as Pansy cyclically knocked on the wooden door.

"I don't think she's in there", sighed Harry, who was standing next to her with a serious, concerned expression on his face. "We've been here for the past thirty minutes and we haven't heard a single sound coming from something other than your shoes. As much as I love you in high heels, now I wish you'd have put some _bloody_ sneakers on".

The witch turned her head in his direction, glaring at her fiancée. "You _bloody_ well know I don't do _sneakers_ , Potter", she sneered. "Now, since you're so adamant Hermione's not home, why don't you use one of your _badass_ _Auror spells_ and open this door for me?"

Harry smirked. "None of my _badass Auror spells_ can compete with the wards she's put all over this place. But I thought you'd have a key, since you claim to be her _best_ friend".

It was a weird competition between the two of them: Harry had been missing the brunette dearly in the years she'd spent in Australia, and after the Hogwarts Reunion Pansy had confessed him that she'd spent the last four years of her life in very close contact with Hermione, and now she practically considered the witch the only family she had.

So, they'd started staking claims on who was a bigger, better friend just for the fun of it.

They were _that_ weird, but Pansy loved every second of it.

After her disastrous experience with Daphne and the countless, meaningless flings she'd thrown herself into after their break-up, she didn't believe it was possible for her to find what muggles would have called her _one true love_.

And yet, here she was, beaming at the man next to her for his stupid joke, and she was going to _marry_ him.

It was still surreal to her, but she thanked Merlin _every fucking day_ for her luck: she loved Harry and Harry loved her back.

She wasn't going to let anything get in the way of that.

Pansy searched in her purse, extracting a victorious hand with a handful of keys after a couple of minutes.

She sorted through the keys, looking for the right one, then inserted it in its hole and tapped it twice with her wand.

The wards shifted gracefully, and the door slowly opened, allowing them into the apartment.

Harry frowned as he stepped into the Penthouse and his left foot produced a weird nose.

Looking down at the floor, he noticed four unopened letters under the sole of his shoe.

He picked them up, quickly scanning through the senders' information but came up with nothing.

He let the envelopes fall back to the floor.

Pansy grabbed him by his right arm, urging him to the living room.

At first look, nothing was out of the place, but the sofa area looked like a battlefield: an empty bottle of wine was sitting on the coffee table, another on the floor, very close to the black leather couch; more letters were splattered all over it, and she noticed a giant photo-album half-hidden under one of the pillows.

It was bound to be _bad_.

"I'll go see if she's in her room. Hopefully, she's passed out from all the wine and we can quickly fix her with the _Pepper-Up_ I brought with me", the Slytherin said, matter-of-factly. Harry sent her a questioning glance. "It's not like _that_ hasn't happened before", she snorted.

"Are you saying it's completely _normal_ for her to be drunk and passed out at three in the afternoon, sweetheart?", he asked, furrowing his brows.

" _Nope_ , I'm saying that's her way to react when things get too intense and she can't find another way to cope", she explained. "Check that stuff while I'm gone", she added, pointing a finger to the papers splattered over the coffee-table.

Pansy kissed him lightly on the mouth, then turned on her heels and walked towards the stairs, hips swaying in her skin-tight jeans.

She chuckled at Harry's low whistle and increased her pace so that she could be back in the living room as soon as possible.

Holding to the _Pepper-Up Potion_ she'd already retrieved from her designer muggle hand-bag, the dark-haired woman climbed the stairs two at a time.

As she walked past the arch that divided the room with her bed from the rest of her bedroom, where her vanity sat among other things, like the doors for her private bathroom and walk-in wardrobe, along with a giant library which contained her favourite books, Pansy started calling for her friend.

She'd believed Hermione was doing _better_ than usual lately, but now she'd realized she'd just become an even better actress than she already was.

The witch narrowed her eyes at the empty bed, then quickly stormed to the bathroom, but there was no-one there, either.

The same went for the wardrobe.

She searched the rest of the floor, the guest-room with its bathroom and her personal studio, even climbing up to the small owlery she'd built next to her rooftop patio, which she searched thoroughly.

Five minutes later she was returning to the living room, sulking.

Harry was going through the letters as she looked at the pictures in her album, which documented with plenty of details Hermione's first ten years of life with her muggle parents.

There were pictures from birthdays, holidays and trips, a couple of school recitals, many were she was dressed in weird, colourful costumes for Halloween or Carnival; shots from when she was just a couple of days old, her head almost bare and her frame rather chubby.

She had been a _gorgeous_ toddler before her front teeth had started growing; she could see exactly how the glamour placed on her had increasingly altered her features _ever-so-slightly_ over the course of the years, and she could see both the faces she associated with Hermione Granger, before and after the spell had been finally lifted, in the smile of the little girl hugging his teddy-bear that she was currently looking at.

"What do the letters say?", she inquired, tilting her head up to look at Harry. He was finally done reading them and she craved answers.

"I'll keep my resume for when the others will join us", he sighed, glancing at the watch hanging on top of the fireplace. "What's bothering me it's the letter she received _today_ ", he added, handing it to her.

Pansy picked up the sheet of paper, her eyes rapidly scanning through William Granger's words, and gasped when in the middle of the fourth sentence she was stroked by the _news_.

His wife, Jane, Hermione's mother, had been the victim of a car-accident and would probably be gone for good in a matter of hours.

The rest of the letter was an awkward apology for his two years of silence in which he hadn't talked to his daughter once.

It had taken _three_ doses of Pepper-Up the first time William Granger hadn't called for her birthday, and twice that amount of wine.

She grimaced when Harry's foot slammed into something made of glass as he promptly stood up to answer the knock on the door and a bottle of _Odgen's_ _finest_ fell to the ground.

That one was empty, too.

* * *

 ** _( Nott Manor, somewhere in Dorset, England,  
_** ** _September 19th, 2003, 16:30 p.m. )_**

Theodore was furiously pacing the length of what had been his father's personal studio in Nott Manor.

He'd set up his own in a different wing of the mansion, closer to his bedchambers, but whenever he needed his brain to fully concentrate, Theo always came here.

Sitting on Cantankerus' tufted armchair still felt like the oddest thing ever, but over the past two years he'd somewhat grown accustomed to it.

It was almost comforting, to some extent.

Despite his relationship with the wizard being _tumultuous_ in their best days, Theo was now capable of finding shelter and reassurance in the good memories he had of him.

They weren't many, but there were still some.

Like his first ride on a broom, which they'd planned behind Anastasia's back and had costed the man a week worth of sleeping in the guestroom, or the moment he'd praised him for his artistic ambitions: he remembered way too well the shameless way he'd gaped at his father when he'd found him in the solarium his mother had arranged for him to paint, a brush in his left hand and colours smeared all over his expensive robes.

He'd expected Cantankerus to yell at him and even forbid him from further exploring his passion for canvases and water-colours, but the wizard had simply smiled at his son and told him he was _proud_ of him.

It had been the first and only occasion he'd done such a thing, or at least before he'd been released from Voldemort's grip on his mind: Theodore had spent countless hours and sleepless nights trying to figure out just how deep _His_ influence had been in the way his father had raised and treated him, and it made him _sick_ to his stomach the way some murderous madman had been capable of tearing his entire family apart.

He hated his father for falling for the dark wizard's talks of Pureblood supremacy – He, who had been the son of a muggle _raped_ with the aid of a Love Potion – and promises of glory, but he also pitied him.

One bad decision and his whole life had been taken from him: heir of the illustrious House Nott, head of one of the most powerful wizarding families of all Europe, Cantankerus had been deprived of his _freedom_ , as his choices had stopped being _his_ the moment the Mark had touched his skin, his _children_ , as one he'd had to abandon and the other he'd been forced to mistreat and indoctrinate by his _Master_ , and consequentially his beloved _wife_ , the only thing really keeping him sane, had fallen into depression, a condition very similar to its muggle counterpart, but which possessed the added side-effect of draining someone's magic, and therefore its vital energy, which was exactly what had happened to Anastasia Nott née Greengrass.

Theodore looked once again at the display of his phone.

It was thirty past four in the afternoon and Hermione still hadn't replied to a single one of the six messages he'd sent her.

She'd had read them, though, he'd checked, and that was what worried him the most: no matter how completely and utterly _elusive_ she could seem, his sister was always there when he needed her.

His _MirrorPhone_ vibrated, signalling the arrival of a new text message from none other than Harry Potter, _The-Boy-Who-Lived-To-Deliver-Bad-News_.

 _'We're at Mione's. She's not here. We'll open the Floo for you, Pansy says to come here asap'_ , it recited.

Frowning at the sidereal black device, Theo checked the pockets of his sweatshirt to make sure he was carrying anything of importance, like his wallet, headphones and wand, then covered the distance between the studio and the Manor's sitting room, where the fireplace was located.

Stepping inside the Floo, he grabbed a handful of glittery powder from the terracotta bowl and threw it on the ground, shouting " _WizVille n.23, the Penthouse!_ " and disappearing in a twirl of green flames.

Theodore landed in Hermione's living room forty-five seconds later.

Brushing his clothes to get rid of any residues of floo powder, the dark-haired wizard quickly scanned the room with his eyes: on the sofa sat Weasley, who was chatting quietly with Potter as his sister spoke with Draco from Blaise's lap; the former Slytherins were positioned in two adjoining armchairs, while Pansy was sitting at the piano.

His expression softened when he spotted the familiar head of blonde hair sitting next to her, and he smiled at Luna – things between them were not going well, they were even _better_ – before his eyes narrowed once again on his childhood friend.

"Care to explain what the _fuck_ is going on, Pansy?", he snarled.

"Now that we're all here", came Harry's voice from the sofa. "I suggest we begin looking for Hermione. She's not answering her phone and both our _Patronuses_ ", he gestured at himself, then at his ginger companion, "Were not able to find her, which means she's probably in a place crowded with muggles, or out of their aim. I suggest we start by making a list of places where she could be, then we split in pairs and go looking for her. The first couple who finds her sends a message in the group-chat you've just been added to", he finished, his fingers furiously digiting on the touchscreen.

A quick, soft vibration from all the phones in the room except for Potter's confirmed the creation of said group.

Just as Draco was about to open his mouth and say something, Weasley felt the compelling need to jump on his feet and glare at the former Slytherin.

"We're not playing a game here", he spat. "Hermione is _missing,_ and we need to find her as soon as possible. Don't even think of screwing this up, Malfoy. _I'm watching you_ ".

If they were muggles, his threat would have sounded ridiculous: Ronald Billius Weasley was in a good shape and discreetly tall and built, but Malfoy was taller by a good five inches, and definitely _larger_ : in the past four years there hadn't been a regular day in which he hadn't worked out at Gregory's gym and now his frame looked like it was sculpted in stone.

Alabaster, probably.

"I'm not here to _cat-fight_ with you, _Weasley_ ", Draco scoffed with the same superior attitude he'd sported in Hogwarts. "If you hadn't interrupted me with your conspiracy theories, I would have already provided the bit of information I possess that may actually be useful in finding Granger".

"Pray tell, _Ferret_ , what is it that you know and we don't?", the ginger asked, a derisive sneer on his lips.

He returned to his seat next to his best friend, Harry glaring at him from behind his semi-rimless framed eyeglasses; they were similar to the pair he'd wore in school, but this specific model, combined with the medium-length curly hair and the stylish beard, gave him a rather hipster- _ish_ look.

If it hadn't been Potter the one wearing it, Theodore would have actually asked where he'd bought his sweater. It was that _dope_.

"She answered _my_ text this morning", the blond announced, triumphally, and if only he wasn't obligated to side with his Slytherin fellows whenever Ronald Weasley was included, as their reciprocal dislike had never really faded since their time in Hogwarts, he would probably be scowling at his best mate right now. "She said she was fine and that she was planning of spending the whole day reading".

"Whatever she felt like this morning doesn't matter now", Pansy interrupted them, clearing her voice before speaking so that she could get everybody's attention. She really didn't like to repeat herself. "I checked with the concierge and he's handed those letters to her", he pointed one of her long nails to the pile neatly stacked on the coffee table. "Around eleven. He said she was fine when she took the lift. Harry and I read them and we're positive her disappearance has to do with the fact her… _umh_ , her _adoptive_ mother is on her death bed as we speak".

Eight pairs of eyes widened at the revelation, but only one mouth had an owner brave enough to ask the question everyone was dying to know the answer for.

It was Ginny. "Do you guys think she's with her parents?"

Theodore cringed at her choice of words, but before he could tell her those two weren't her real parents and had given up on Hermione a long time ago, the doorbell rang.

"I'll go", said Luna, raising gracefully from her seat at the piano. She'd kept quiet until now, which didn't surprise him at all, as she tended to prefer smaller crowds, but the absence of a smile on her lips gave away the fact she was deeply absorbed in thought.

 _So exquisitely Ravenclaw of her_.

Theo followed her without saying a word, taking her hand in his and placing a kiss on her left cheekbone.

Their date the night before had been interrupted by the attack on Malfoy Manor, while today they hadn't made plans of any sorts due to his sister's birthday: he'd been convinced they'd have celebrated that night, and that he'd have eventually got his occasion to see the witch's apartment, but apparently _the Universe_ had something else in mind.

"It's starting to feel like we're having Hermione's birthday party without her", she confessed as they walked towards the door. She stood on her tippy-toes to check on the peephole and turned back to him with a frown. "I have no idea who that guy is. He's not someone from Hogwarts and he's not one of her Australian friends. I met them", the blonde added when she noticed his questioning look.

He sneaked a peek, too, but didn't recognize him either.

"Let's see what he wants, shall we?", he suggested, his free hand already grabbing the handle as the other kept holding Luna's.

The pair was met by a well-cured man who looked like he'd jumped out of the cover of a magazine: tailored black suit, short, silky brown hair, piercing blue eyes and a smirk he was sure women could kill or die for.

With a shrug, Theo opened the door and looked coldly at the man who'd been hiding behind it. "Excuse me, who are you?"

The man returned the unimpressed glance. "I am Lex, Lex Martin", he introduced himself. "I'm looking for Victoria, _Mr_?"

Something in his both his name and attitude put the former Slytherin instantly on the defensive, a choice further corroborated when the woman next to him grimaced.

It wasn't very much like Luna to show blatant dislike for someone, which meant the guy really had to be a _prick_.

A prick he was probably supposed to remember.

"Mr. Nott, Theodore Nott", he sneered. " _I'm Victoria's brother_ ".

The fact he wasn't using either of her proper names – he'd given up on convincing her to permanently switch to Eloise at this point – confirmed Theo's suspect of him being someone related to Hermione's life overseas.  
 _  
Just… who was this polished, cocky lad?_

" _And I'm Victoria's husband_ ", Lex smirked.

Everything was suddenly extremely clear to him, and the former Slytherin acted without thinking about it twice: his clenched fist hit the man square in the face, sending him to the ground as blood started spilling from his (probably broken) nose.

Theodore mightn't have been as assiduous as Draco in visiting Goyle's gym, but he'd still managed to develop a killer left-hook.  
 _  
Fighting the muggle way was so much fun_.

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Victoria Street n. 23: The Penthouse,  
_** ** _London, England_** ** _, September 19th, 2003, 16:50 p.m. )_**

* * *

Having so many brothers had proved to be less fun and more effort than anyone could have guessed, but there were times, much like the present, were Ginny was very grateful for her childhood of pranks and quarrels between siblings.

She could recognize the sound of scuffles and broken bones pretty much everywhere, so she was the first to tilt her head in the direction Luna and Theodore had gone a minute ago.

" _What the fuck!_ ", someone yelled.

She heard the former Slytherin shout something in response, then Luna's much calmer voice suggesting they'd talk inside, before the concierge noticed something was off in the security cameras and called the authorities.

The red-haired smiled at her friend's peace-seeking attitude, then cringed as she noticed her brother still glaring at Draco Malfoy.

Ginny shot him a threatening look, mouthing a _Drop it_ , _Ronald_ that finally convinced the ginger-haired man to focus his attention back on Harry, who was compiling a list of places Hermione might be with the aid of muggle internet.

Theodore and Luna, followed by a handsome man she'd never seen before, returned to the room; the latter's nose was bleeding.

Like she said, she could recognize the sound of broken bones _everywhere_.

Calmly stroking her boyfriend's hair as she listened to his conversation with Draco, whom she had to admit had reacted rather _majestically_ to her brother's harassment, Ginny Weasley almost missed the screeching sound made by the bench in front of the piano Pansy had been sitting on until now, which she dragged forcefully on the marble floor as she stood up.

"What are you doing here?", she practically snarled at him.

Her usual composure had been thrown out of the window, and she was enjoying every second of the show: Pansy Parkinson was one of the most poised women she'd ever met.

"I'm looking for Victoria", he said, unapologetically. "At least, that's what I was doing before this _gorilla_ jumped at me". Then he muttered something under his breath that nobody could understand, but as the _passive-aggressive_ attitude had been Percy's resolution in every confrontation he'd ever had with his siblings, Ginny managed to figure out a few words, like " _Fucking Purebloods_ " or " _Stupid English folks_ ".

"She's not here", Pansy informed him, unimpressed. "You better head to a hospital before I add a black eye to your face".

"Always the charming one, aren't you, Parkinson? No surprise your name has been given to a _disease_ ", he spat back, sending into confusion those who weren't quite familiar with the muggle world and therefore that particular illness, Ginny included.

The dark-haired witch raised a cocky brow, as to ask him if that was the best he got.

She was starting to understand why her ex had fallen for the former Slytherin.

"Leave us alone, Lex", Pansy sneered. "Like I said, she's not here. And even if she was, what makes you think she'd like for you to show up at her house?"

"I'm her _husband_ , I don't care if you think she wouldn't-"

"That's where you're wrong. I don't merely _think_ , I _know_ for sure that she doesn't want you around. One meeting, to which _I_ actually pressured her to consent to, wasn't enough? _Stay the fuck out of her life_ ", she warned him.

Meanwhile, Ginny was in _awe_ of her fierceness.

Even when they'd been enemies during their school years, she didn't remember Pansy putting herself on the line for someone that wasn't herself like she was doing now.

Draco cleared his throat, then patted Blaise on one knee to get his attention, therefore capturing Ginny's too.

The pair exchanged a glance that spoke volumes of what they thought of the man, then simultaneously raised from their seat after the dark-skinned wizard helped her slide to the armrest.

Her boyfriend was almost 2 meters tall and very well-muscled, so the gulp in Lex's throat didn't surprise her at all.

Blaise was what a muggle would call a _good giant_ , and she knew for a fact he couldn't hurt a fly, but there was no need for their _foe_ to be aware of that, too.

"I'd leave if I were you", she suggested with a smirk.

Ginny still wasn't sure of what exactly was going on, but she knew perfectly which team she was playing with: Hermione was missing, possibly on the edge of a _nervous breakdown_ , and this man's theatrics were taking precious time away from their researches. "I'm sure you remember where the door is".

She frowned a little. Slytherin's _snobbish_ ways were rubbing off on her.

"Fine, I'll leave", the man surrendered. "I will find my wife on my own".

" _Ex-wife_ ", remarked Pansy as he stormed to the door. "A bride you managed to keep for _what_ – _like_ , forty-five minutes?"

Ginny stood up and allowed Blaise to sit back in the armchair, taking her seat in his lap once more; Luna and Theodore sat in the same way on the other, forcing Draco to go on the couch with Potter and Weasley.

He was pretty good at hiding his scowl.

He might no longer have issues with Harry, but his rivalry with her brother had never dissipated.

They'd just never got it out of their system, in her modest opinion.

"Ok, enough with this _bullshit_ ", The-Boy-Who-Lived stated, firmly. "We've lost enough time already. It's my best friend we're trying to find, and as much as it pains me, she's not the same girl I said goodbye to five years ago. Pansy, you're the one who knows her better as of right now. What do you know about her parents and what are her usual hiding places? From your reaction and the _Pepper-Up_ you claimed it's in your bag I can suppose this is not the first time something like that happens. _Start talking_ , _now_ ", he ordered.

Harry Potter was using his _Auror voice_ , which reminded Ginny of just how serious the whole situation really was.

It wasn't like Hermione to simply disappear without saying a word to nobody, and especially Pansy and her brother; yes, she'd left five years before and no one had seen her until the Hogwarts Reunion except from her Slytherin friend and, apparently, Luna – who had never mentioned it –, but ever since she'd returned to England, she'd been just the same caring, intelligent girl Ginny had desperately missed.

Just a _finer_ , _more mature_ version of her with impressive blue eyes, a gorgeous body and a killer wardrobe.

Despite knowing how dramatic the situation was, Ginny refused to believe anything wrong was going on with Hermione: perhaps she was just busy, minding her own business, and they were all throwing a big fit for nothing.

She voiced her thoughts before Pansy could begin to answer her boyfriend's questions.

"Guys, what if…", she started, licking her lips as they suddenly felt extremely drying. The look on Harry's face screamed bloody murder. " _What if Hermione simply doesn't want us around?_ "

She knew she'd hit a nerve when the wizard tilted his head down, a sad frown on his face. "Though that's probably true, Ginny, it doesn't mean she won't _need_ us around. It's her birthday, a day which you probably remember Hermione used to _love_ a lot but expressed no intention of _celebrating_ or even _acknowledging_ this year. Then there's the fact the woman who raised her and then thrown her away like a _fucking_ broken broom is currently about to _die_. _Oh_ , and she has a fucking problem with her _juice_ and she drunk two bottles of wine and one of _FireWhisky_ before she left the house".

" _Shit_ ", she muttered under her breath. She had meant to lighten the spirits a little, not to wake a sleeping dragon. "I simply meant that maybe she's already been at whatever hospital her mother is in, and she's either staying by her side or blowing the steam off somewhere. Maybe she's with that guy, _Curtis_ \- No, it was _Natan_ \- _Nope_. Oh, yeah, _Terrence_ ".

Harry rolled his eyes, semi-desperate. " _And who is Terrence?_ "

"Nobody of importance", assured Pansy. "He was her personal trainer, but they haven't been working together for a while now", she added when the dark-haired man invited her to explain herself with a suggestive wiggle of his brows.

"So, this guy has no importance", said Harry, "Going back to the main subject, then", he trailed off.

"They may not be working together, but what makes you so sure she hasn't kept seeing him to get some _horizontal work-out_?", Ginny insisted. "Blaise told me she has, and I'm quoting, _unintentionally slept with him_ once already".

"You're such a _tattler_ , Zabini", Pansy scoffed at the couple comfortably sitting on the armchair. "You too, Weasley".

" _Going. Back. To. The. Main. Subject_ ", Harry glared, a vein dangerously pulsing on his forehead, the dazed look on his eyes just crazy enough to convince everyone in the room to finally follow his lead.

He wasn't head of the best investigative team in the entire DMLE for nothing, after all.

"The only thing I know about her parents is that they left her alone the moment she retrieved their memories. She has never gone into detail, but I know her mother was the worst of the pair. Her father used to call her on her birthday, but he hasn't done that in the past two years", Pansy said.

"Do they still live in Australia?", asked Ron.

"I'm not sure", the Slytherin shrugged. "As far as I'm concerned she has no contact with them and they never visited once in the three years we lived together".

"Maybe they returned to England", suggested Luna.

"I think we should call her solicitor, Dylan Dorne", said Theo. "If there's someone who has that kind of information, that's him".

Nobody replied to Nott's words, but Pansy nodded her approval.

"Does someone know the address of her childhood home?", Draco interrogated after a while.

" _I do_ ", replied Harry, glad that someone was finally providing a useful contribution to the case. " _89 Folkestone Road_ ".

Ginny sent a puzzled look at Malfoy when he sat up and dis-apparated after asking them to keep him informed throughout the group-chat.

 _Well, if that wasn't interesting_.

* * *

 **[4]** : the **_Schott_ _Perfecto Leather Jacket_** is a real thing, just thought I'd throw it out there in case you want to google it.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, cupcakes!  
Against all odds I managed to update this story in less than a week,  
just like the good old times, so here we go. (:  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter and that you're ready for what will  
come after this, which will be the longest chapter so far!  
The plot is finally coming into shape for what concerns our villains  
and the more adventurous/mystery side of this story, but don't worry,  
I'll keep working on the Dramione and all the other characters and pairings  
just as much. Also, as soon as I'm done with my exams I'll start reviewing  
the first few chapters; I think they're a complete mess compared to those that  
have followed and especially those I'm currently writing, and I want the final  
product to have some coherence (?).

On tumblr (username: godisawitchfic) you can find a little sneak-peek  
of the next chapter, it's a Ron&Draco scene that was really, really fun to write.  
There you can also find a link to the Spotify playlist I've made with all the songs  
that give the chapters their titles, though I must warn you that it's 99% _rap  
_ (that's the kind of vibe I'm going for).

I hope you all have an amazing week and, as usual, thank you from the bottom  
of my heart to all the people who used some of their time to write me a review  
or to put this story in their followed/favorites. You're the best!


	20. SICKO MODE

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **20.**

 **SICKO MODE**

 **.**

" _ __woo, made this here with all the ice on in the booth  
at the gate outside, when they pull up, they get me loose (…)  
had to hit my old town to duck the news  
two-four hour lockdown, we made no moves  
now it's 4AM and I'm back up poppin' with the crew ___"

* * *

 ** _( WizVille n.23, London – England,  
September 19th, 2003, around 18:00 p.m. )_**

* * *

After two hours and a half, the group still had no clue on Hermione's whereabouts: Draco had returned from her family home around twenty-five minutes after he'd left, a scowl on his face, stating the house was inhabited, but that he'd performed a spell to check for the witch's passage, and she hadn't been there in at least three to five years.

William and Jane Granger had apparently been back in England for some time now, if as soon as they'd retrieved their memories or long after that, they couldn't tell.

Pansy had phoned every hospital and healthcare centre in a seven-miles radius, and eventually ended up with a lead after some old-fashioned _bribing_.

The London Bridge Hospital, a private facility located in the south bank of river Thames.

Jane had been brought in by her husband on the 17th and was currently under observation on room thirty-eight.

Along with the nurse's mouth-slip, however, came Dylan's call on Pansy's phone the second she closed the first one.

They'd watched her nod her head, whispering her answers softly in the microphone, and scribble something on a post-it, then told him she'd see him there, wherever _there_ was.

She passed the piece of paper to Harry. "He had no information on her parents, but luckily, we've got that covered on our own", she said, sending a thankful glance in Draco's direction. "However, Dylan told me she posted a video. It didn't appear when we checked on our phones because we're currently using the English circuit. Hermione must know that. She probably doesn't want to be found right now, which is exactly why we _must_ do that as soon as possible".

"How do we know she didn't post the video so that she could side-track us?", asked Ron, surprising the Slytherins with the intelligent question.

"You have a point here", the dark-haired witch nodded her agreement. "That's why we need to split. If she is where I think she is, you'll need the specific coordinates written on the post-it I've just given to Harry. Dylan is sending me said video as we speak, in five minutes we should know what to do".

Her phone rang once in that moment and she swiftly opened the message from Hermione's solicitor, cursing under her breath as she waited for it to download.

She didn't need to look at the entire footage to recognize the familiar volcano towering in front of a beautiful sunrise; the video had been captured at broom's height, and she expressed her thankfulness for the _Permanent Sticking Charm_ Hermione had placed on all of her brooms.

"So, three of us go and see the Grangers at the hospital. That'll be me, Ronald and Theodore. They're familiar with Ron and I, besides they'll hopefully be more comfortable with the idea of speaking with Hermione's brother rather than a complete stranger", Potter ordered, plotting quickly and daring everyone to question his directions. "Pansy, you'll go to the place in the video, but I want you to take Draco with you, just in case something happens I want your back covered. Before you _skin_ me, love, just remember that's our best friend you're going against. If she doesn't want to be found, she'll throw a fit before she lets you talk her into reason".

"Blaise and Ginny should come, too", Pansy suggested. "When Dylan downloaded the video Mirror automatically alerted her. If she really is there, she knows we're coming and she'll be _prepared_. Besides, she's drunk and Merlin knows what else. She tends to be _mean_ when she's drunk", she added as an afterthought.

"Sounds good to me", the man shrugged. "Luna, I have to ask you to remain here. Someone needs to make sure she won't just pop back in and disappear again as we're out and about chasing her. I hope your _Binding Hex_ is as good as I remember it", he chuckled.

"And you need someone here that won't rip that Lex lad's head out if he shows up again", the blonde Ravenclaw replied with a smirk.

"Whoever finds her first sends a message in the same group-chat we've used up until now. Cut the _memes_ and the _stickers_ [3] bullshit, if you don't mind. We'll have time for that later", the man continued. "Pansy, please tell me you know how to use Hermione's private Port-Key. That girl's as brilliant as she is complicated", he muttered. "There's no way we can get one from the Ministry in less than three to six hours, and that's with _The Chosen One_ pulling the strings".

"Of course I _bloody_ know how to use it!", the Slytherin reprimanded. "There's a screen hidden behind the clock. Type the coordinates I've written on the post-it, step into the floo and enjoy your ride. _Let me show you_ ".

She gestured to the people who were supposed to follow her, then approached the fireplace.

Removing the clock, she uncovered the display she'd just been talking about; Pansy typed the numbers she'd perfectly memorized, then waved at her beau as the blue portal started spinning.

* * *

 ** _( The London Bridge Hospital, London – England,  
September 19th, 2003, around 18:20 p.m. )_**

* * *

That's how Theodore found himself strolling down the corridors of the London hospital: the smell of disinfectant, cleaning products and _old people_ was positively nauseating, but he had a mission to accomplish, therefore he was standing strong.

There wasn't a map of the floorplan to follow, and the directions given to him by the nurse at the acceptance desk weren't exactly precise.

Lost in a muggle hospital, he was also in the company of Potter and Weasley, something that didn't feel very _natural_ to him.

Even though he had no problems with either wizards, Theo still would have preferred the company of his own friends, but Potter's argumentation had been impossible to rebate to.

Besides, he really wanted to give to the Grangers a piece of his mind.

What they had done to his sister was petty and mean at the very least, and he had no doubts they held huge responsibility for Hermione's emotional scars.

He just wanted them to be aware (and possibly ashamed) of that.

He also wished Luna could join them, but The-Boy-Who-Lived had been right about the witch remaining at the Penthouse, too.

If Lex Martin had the gut to show his face at his sister's place once more, he didn't know what he could do: he'd tricked her and tried to steal from her, all the while playing with her feelings like they had no importance.

He deserved more than a simple broken nose in Theodore's opinion.

"Here we go", Ronald said after his inspection of yet another plate pinned to a white door. "Room thirty-eight".

He knocked once, just to warn the Grangers of their arrival, then opened the door without further notice and entered the hospital room with Harry and Theodore in tow.

" _Hello, Mr. Granger_ ", greeted Potter. "I'm sorry to bother you under these dramatic circumstances", he gestured at the woman sleeping on the hospital bed, whose pallor was rather ill-looking. "These are Ronald Weasley, you two already met, and Theodore Nott. He is-"

" _I'm Hermione's twin brother_ ", the Slytherin interrupted him.

"I see", the man replied, scrutinizing him from behind his reading glasses. He had a book in his hands and he'd been reading it to his sleeping wife when they'd barged into the room. "To answer your question, Harry, _yes_. Hermione has been here today".

"What happened? Did she manage to talk to Jane?", the wizard inquired, taking a couple steps in his direction. He stopped midway from the muggle and his two teammates, his eyes focused on Jane's gracile frame. "Regardless, _how is she_?"

"I met her while she was on her way out", William admitted, his eyes lowered to the ground as he didn't dare cross them with Theo's. "She was coming out of this room and I was returning from the loo. Jane refused to tell me what happened and so did Hermione, but she was crying. I don't know where she went when she left the hospital", he added with a shrug. "As for my wife, she's stable for the most part, but the accident has wounded many vital organs. The doctors are still not sure about the amount of damage it did to her body, but she's conscious and that's supposed to be a good thing according to them".

"I'm sorry, aren't you a _doctor_ too?", came Ron's question out of the blue.

"I'm a dentist, boy", the man glared. "I take care of people's _teeth_. Here we're talking about her lungs and kidneys".

"I'm sorry for your wife's incredible misfortune. I hope things will get better", said Potter, ever-the-diplomat.

Theo just wanted the pathetic scene to be over: Anastasia had been put on a bed just like Jane's during her final days, when Cantankerus had brought her to St. Mungo's because of her health conditions literally falling apart, and as much as he didn't like the woman, the wizard didn't like the reminder of his mother's misery, either.

Or to look at a woman dying. _Again_.

Just as he pondered if he should say something, his phone vibrated in the pocket of his jeans. He could tell from the look on their faces that Potter and Weasley had received something, too, which meant someone had written something in the group-chat.

He hoped it was good news.

Trying to be discreet as William Granger shared the details of his wife's condition, he picked up the device and unlocked the screen.

It was a message from Pansy.

 _She's here. Go to her house and take the Port-Key. Now._

Theodore cleared his throat. "We need to go", he announced. " _Pansy knows where she is_ ". _  
_  
"I have to go, Mr. Granger", The-Boy-Who-Lived excused himself. "Good luck for everything".

Ron and Theo were much briefer in the way they greeted the man, as both shared a strong dislike for him due to the fact he'd abandoned his daughter, and quickly enough the trio was heading back to the corner of the parking lot that was hidden enough for them to apparate.

Checking there was nobody to witness the display of magic, they opted for side-along, with Harry holding both men by their forearms.

Hermione had personally put wards on the perimeter of her condo, forbidding everyone, including herself, from using apparition inside of it; it explained her obsession for Port-Keys, but they mentally cursed at her anyway as they were forced to land on a nearby alley, walk their way to the front door and wait for the concierge to open the door.

"I'm afraid I haven't seen you leave earlier, _detective Pollock_ ", the old man said to Potter, scrutinizing the scar on his forehead like it was about to rip open and say _Hello!_ to him. "Is everything fine with Mrs. Granger, I hope?"

"She's not in any danger", he replied, lips pursed tightly. "I'm here with my colleague, Roger Talbott", he gestured to Ron. "And her brother to retrieve some, _uh_ , objects Mrs. Granger needs in her current location, which she asked me not to divulge with anyone".

"Let me sign you on the computer and you'll be good to go", the other said, then quickly moved to his desk, where he typed something brief on his computer. He smirked at the monitor before returning to where the trio was standing. " _Mrs. Granger said not to forget her sunglasses_ ".

Theodore glared at him, then at the target pinned to his chest.

He didn't like this _Finley Wade_ guy one bit.

The wizards stormed to the lift, which luckily was already at the ground floor.

Quickly stepping into it, they didn't exchange a word between them until after they were inside Hermione's apartment.

Luna was video-calling what sounded like a rather distressed Pansy, and she looked oddly concerned. "The guys are here", she whispered to her phone. "We'll leave for the _island_ as soon as we're done with this call".

"I'll meet you at the house. _Be careful_ ", Pansy warned her. "And tell Harry I love him, of course. _One never knows_ ", she added, vaguely amused, before dropping the call.

"We should go", Luna prompted as she put her telephone in the front pocket of her oversized jeans. "Pansy was freaking out".

" _Pansy freaks out a lot_ ", said Harry, getting an approving glance from both Draco and Theodore, whom had been friends with the woman for most of their lives. "Let's find out where the fuck this island is, shall we?"

The group of five repeated the steps Pansy had showed them, and pressed tightly against each other they eventually disappeared in the blue vortex.

"We should have googled the coordinates, by the way", Luna chirped before they were literally swept of their feet. "I'm not sure will be dressed properly for the occasion".

* * *

 ** _( Unknown location – Australia,  
September 20th, 2003, around 7:00 a.m )_**

* * *

The landing could have been smoother, but all five of them managed to keep both their bones and their dignities intact.

"What are we expecting, exactly?", asked Ron, dusting some sand from his clothes.

They were currently on a beach, not too far from a beautiful volcano, surrounded by nature and a magnificent sunrise.

In other circumstances it would have been quite the view.

"I can't be sure, but Hermione is probably an emotional wreck right now", suggested Luna, casually picking up her phone to take a picture of the sunrise. Then she took another shot, aiming her external camera at Harry and Draco, who were standing next to each other, arms still crossed from the moment they'd held each other's forearm to steady themselves as they landed. " _Say Wrackspurts_!", she prompted with a smile.

The two men blinked as the camera flash hit their eyes, then quickly put a two meters distance between each other, equal cringeworthy expressions on their faces.

"We should look for Pansy", suggested Theo, seriously. "Must I remind you we're not on a field trip?"

"Definitely not", Ron nodded. "Lavender will kill me if I miss _brunch_ tomorrow morning", he added, frowning. "Let's go check if ' _Mione_ is fine".

The group turned their backs to the water, heading towards the forest: it was made almost completely of pines and palm trees, and it looked strangely free from any kind of bug.

Ron Weasley definitely appreciated that: he hated spiders, but growing up in the country he'd learned what a nuisance insects could be.

Whenever a bee or a grasshopper managed to enter his apartment in Diagon Alley, which luckily didn't happen often, it was his wife who took care of disposing of the intruder.

Speaking of Lavender, she would probably kill him in any case: he'd travelled to somewhere unknown without giving her any notice, and suddenly he was very regretful about it.

Typing furiously on the display of his phone, Ron sent her a text, apologizing to her for missing dinner and promising he would explain everything to her later.

He really hoped it was enough.

The trees became more and more rare, until they met a footpath of white stones. Walking on top of it, eventually the group caught a glimpse of the house they were supposed to meet Pansy and the others at.

Or rather, the _mansion_.

The building was magnificent, perched on the very top of a cliff, and completely white; there were terraces and balconies very nicely decorated with different plants and flowers, and a giant pool at the back of the property.

Twin stairways met on a large patio, and between the two was placed a fountain on top of a small artificial lake covered in waterlilies.

The location was amazing.

Ron cleared his throat as they approached the stairs. "This is Hermione's house?", he asked.

"The whole island belongs to her. Better, she literally _built_ all of this from scratch when she started making _real_ money", Luna supplied. She was walking next to Nott, her blonde hair wobbling slightly as they followed the sway of her hips. "Anyway, this place is her sanctuary. I've been here only twice and both times Pansy personally apparated me here from their flat in Sydney".

"We're in Australia, then?", Harry investigated. " _What the fuck is going on with you, Hermione_ ", he then added, muttering under his breath, but Ronald was close enough to hear him.

"We're in Australia", he repeated, blinking. "We're in _fucking_ Australia".

"Hurry up", Malfoy called them from the top of the stairs. "The others are here", he announced, and the former Gryffindor couldn't help but instinctively scowl at the sound of his voice.

He simply couldn't tolerate him: every single time he looked at him he couldn't help but remember all the occasions in which Draco had made a fool out of him, humiliating him in front of their peers ( _in front of Hermione_ ), and he just wanted to curse him.

Ron couldn't help but caress the thought of getting away with injuring the Slytherin because of their very different positions in wizarding society, him being a war-hero and well-respected Auror and the blond a former Death-Eater; however, he liked to consider himself an honest and just man, so he just pushed it to the back of his mind like many times before.

As he and Harry climbed up the last couple of stairs, the people who'd earlier travelled to the island came into their view.

"There you are!", exhaled Pansy, hurrying in her boyfriend's direction. "How did it go at the hospital?"

"Jane is under observation", Harry supplied, gravely. "William wasn't very helpful in disclosing what exactly is going on with Hermione, but hopefully you have better news to share on that front".

"I'm afraid she doesn't. _We don't- We couldn't find Granger_ ", Malfoy said.

"I looked on all of her favourite spots. The bitch's gone into hiding", added Pansy. "Which means she can be _literally_ everywhere on this island".

"She has a fucking waterpark!", shared Zabini out of the blue.

"You should see the Quidditch pitch", Ginny aided him with a dreamy look.

"What do you mean she could be _literally_ everywhere in this island?", Harry ignored them, focusing his attention on Pansy. "Are you sure the word you're looking for isn't _figuratively_?"

"I know how to speak English, Potter. Thank you very much", the Slytherin scoffed. "This entire place is made of her magic. Hermione designed every single corner of it. Moreover, she controls the island with her _mind_ ".

Ron cleared his throat. "There's still eight of us, while she's on her own. And intoxicated beyond return", he reasoned.

"Ron's got a point", intervened Luna, softly. "This place is in the exact middle of the island, isn't it?", she asked.

Pansy nodded. "We split into pairs and follow the Cardinal points", she suggested. "That way we'll cover a larger portion of ground in less time".

"I'll stay here just in case she returns", added a voice Ron hadn't heard before, which belonged to someone he didn't know.

The man was around twenty-five years of age, with brown hair and light green eyes, full lips and a seducing smile; he was well-dressed and if Arthur's words were worth any credit – " _I judge a wizard by his wand, son_ ", he was clearly someone who gave a great importance to the way he appeared on the outside.

Not that there was something wrong with that, Ron supposed.

"I'm Dylan Dorne, by the way", the wizard introduced himself. "I'm a close friend of Hermione's _and_ her personal solicitor". He extended an arm to both he and Harry. "Mr. Nott, Mr. Malfoy, it's a pleasure to meet you again", he muttered through pursed lips.

"I assure you, the pleasure is all ours", Malfoy drawled. "Now that we're all set up, perhaps we should start with the research".

"Don't be so hasty, Draco", Pansy reprimanded. "There's something we should do before we dive head first into the wild", she schooled him.

"What now?", asked Ron, rolling his eyes.

Their walk to the mansion had taken at least thirty minutes, and he had to consider at least an hour and a half to travel back to England: Lavender was definitely going to kill him.

* * *

The lounge room was almost the size of the Great Hall, and the uninvited guests were scattered all over the place.

They were lucky the place wasn't lacking comfortable seats.

Harry and Pansy were sitting on sea-green corner sofa placed in one corner of the room, with Ronald and Ginny on their left and Blaise and Luna on their right; Theodore and Draco were at the bar, fixing drinks for the rest of the group as they spoke with Blaise, while Dylan was sitting not far from them, occupied with his phone.

They were all waiting for her to do whatever she needed to do before going out to search for Hermione, but Pansy didn't have the slightest clue as to how to proceed: the information she had was partial, her idea more a conjecture than a thesis, and now she was regretting her decision to postpone the inevitable field-search.

" _C-Can you hear me_ , _Ari_?", she asked after a while, and the room fell completely silent except for the clanging of some glasses.

" _Who is Ari?_ ", she heard someone say, but paid no attention to him or her.

Pansy took a deep breath, then repeated. "Can you hear me, _Ari_?"

" _Ari's here_ ", chanted a female voice.

She looked at her surroundings, trying to identify its source, but came up with nothing until she felt something soft caressing her calves. Looking down, she set her eyes on a beautiful white cat.

The animal was rather chubby and her hair long and healthy; her eyes were an odd shade of bright yellow, and a single spot of red created the shape of a crown on the top of her head.

"What do you want, Pansy Parkinson?", the cat meowed, and somehow the noise turned into words.

"It's very nice to meet you, Ari", Luna cooed. "You weren't here the last time I visited".

"Ari has been here since the island was created", the creature retorted. "Hermione requires me to stay hidden in the rare occasions she has guests. Today, however, I feel like she's in need of some help", she added. " _I guess it is time for some anarchy_ ", and with that she jumped on the sofa, curling in a ball and licking one of her paws.

Despite the urgency of the situation, Pansy was falling in love with the cat, and from the look on her housemates' faces, she could tell she wasn't alone.

"I'm charmed, Mrs", said Blaise, bringing one hand at his chest and sighing dramatically. "Can you help us helping Hermione?"

"When the right time will come", Ari replied, looking bored. "Her organism is filled with adrenaline as we speak, it's better if you let her use some of that energy up before you confront her", she advised, licking her paw and then brushing it over her ear. "The last time something like this happened, she finished the south side of the island. There's a spa and everything-"

"Yes, very helpful", Theo interrupted her. "Can't you please just tell us where my sister is?", he asked the cat from where he stood behind the bar.

"I could, but I definitely won't", was the enigmatic reply. "She explicitly ordered me not to divulge her location, I'm afraid", the animal added, tilting his head up to look the wizard in the eyes. "But I can help you with damage control once you found her".

"What are you exactly?", Draco chimed in. "Granger's _house-keeper_ or just her talking cat?"

If a cat could look crossed, that was what Ari seemed when she heard the second question.

Her body was suddenly covered by a glimmering white fog, which expanded until it took up approximately an entire seat on the sofa.

A gorgeous-looking woman with raven hair and lilac eyes emerged from it once it dissipated, smiling seductively. "Maybe you people will take me more seriously if I assume a _shape_ you're more comfortable with", the voice who had belonged to the cat mused. "Let me properly introduce myself to you. My name's _A.R.I_., I'm Hermione's _Artificial Rational Intelligence_ ", she said, matter-of-factly, like it was enough to dissipate any shred of doubt. "I'm a projection of the side of Hermione's brain that process events without the inconvenient nuisance of _feelings_ ".

"And you're purpose would be…", Ginny trailed off, biting her lower lip. " _I'm sorry, a projection of her brain?_ "

"Of the side of her brain that process events without the inconvenient nuisance of feelings", Ari repeated, unimpressed.

"Yeah, right. Sorry I asked", the red-headed muttered, instinctively shifting on her seat to put a little more space between the former cat and herself.

"She has access to all of her memories, thoughts and opinions, even her moral code. But she can filter and analyse them without emotions interfering in her work", Pansy supplied with a nervous voice.

She'd met Ari before, in the shape of both an eagle and a Valkyrie, but she was always very edgy when it came to speaking to her: she was an extension of Hermione, but there was no love in her eyes when she looked at Pansy, only a painfully rational reminder of all the wrong things she'd done in the past – _Harry Potter's here, my Lord!_

"Which is the reason why I'll aid you through the search", Ari said, nonchalantly brushing at some invisible wrinkles on her black dress.

She stood up, heels producing a rough noise as they touched the floor.

"Now, I'll produce three more copies of myself to go with each research team. There's no point in splitting couples and have you distracted with worrying about your life-partner, so… _ParkOtter_ , you go north, expect winter and mind the ice, won't you? _WeasIni_ , you're heading south, make sure to bring your sun protection. _LoveNott_ , enjoy spring over the fjords, because your assigned direction is east", she ordered.

She placed her eyes on Ronald, then Draco, and all the way back to the ginger, smirking. "Now, that leaves… _RonAco_ for the west side. It's mostly wild nature and that's where she carries out the weirdest of her experiments, so keep your wands out and your minds quick. Not that you have to worry, since I'll be with you every step of the way", she finished.

"What do I do if she comes back here?", Dylan asked.

"She won't", Ari replied. "But in case she does, I'll personally be here to talk some _reason_ into her". And with that she sat back on the sofa.

* * *

The path to the north was hard and insidious, and as he and Pansy climbed up to yet another hill, clenching their teeth because of the snowstorm going on around them, Harry was starting to revaluate his ethics and seriously considered _murdering_ Ari.

The _entity_ had taken the shape of a _fucking_ toddler of all things, and it had been annoying the pair with endless chatting and the absurd request of being carried by them.

She was entirely made of magic, and he couldn't put the ability of levitating past her since Hermione didn't need a broom to fly and Ari was an extension of her mind, but still.

"There you go", he exhaled, desperately, taking the toddler from Pansy's arms as it was his turn _again_.

"Something has changed", Ari prompted, sniffing from behind the heavy cloak draped around her tiny shoulders.

She had black hair and green eyes, freckles on her cheeks and a porcelain complexion.

She would have made an adorable toddler if only she weren't completely and utterly insufferable. "Her levels of _euphoria_ are dropping".

"She's probably coming down from the FireWhisky", Pansy suggested, grimacing. "I think we'll need something stronger than the _Pepper-Up_ this time".

Ari blinked. Twice. "My memories have just been updated. She's not drunk anymore. I think-", she paused, licking her lips. "She's smoking something".

"That's good. Maybe she'll relax a little", Harry commented, unimpressed. "Everyone used to be _afraid_ of her wrath, but now it's like everyone it's fucking _terrified_ ".

"Some pot will hardly do the job", Pansy interjected. "It took me ages to find a way to cope when my family cast me aside".

Harry gulped. "I'm just saying you have a better hold on your feelings than she does. Give yourself a little more credit".

The Parkinsons were a subject that always seemed to put Pansy at distress: anytime they came up, he made sure to tell her they were the ones who had wronged her, and not the other way around. He felt like she needed someone to remind her of the concept.

Pansy smiled, sending him an interrogative glance, but she was interrupted by Ari. "Her perceptions are blurring. She's- She's _happier_. She's appreciative of the _sunlight_ on her skin".

The witch blinked. "The sunlight?", she screeched. "Turn around, Potter. There's no need for us to dive further into a fucking snowstorm. She's not here".

" _Oops_ ", the toddler said, covering her mouth with both hands.

"I hate children", Harry said in a very low tone, rolling his eyes when Ari started pulling at his hair. "This child in particular".

"Afraid of commitment, aren't we?", Ari chanted. "To think some would say _babies_ are the next logical step when you're planning to marry someone, Harry Potter".

 _Where is that coming from?_ – Harry thought.

"I'm sorry", Pansy said extra-quickly, concern veiling her voice. "I told her".

"She told her", Ari confirmed, nodding her agreement. She was sporting on her lips a smirk that was oddly similar to Malfoy's. "What did you expect? They are _BFFs_ ", she stated, matter-of-factly.

Harry was slightly taken aback: he wasn't surprised by the fact Pansy had confessed Hermione about their engagement (really, he had been watching her for days and he knew an apology of some sort was coming, he had just been wondering about what precisely), but by the way Ari was trying to use it to start an argument between them.

 _Am I being tested?_ – he asked himself.

"Weren't you bragging about your acting prowess, Ari?", asked Pansy out of the blue. "Earlier, before we left the mansion-"

"I'm an amazingly talented actress, thank you very much. Like I mentioned earlier, I can take any shape or form, which allows me to transform my very skin into whatever mask the scene requires", Ari ranted.

"Of course. That's a remarkable quality", Pansy observed, smiling innocently. However, Harry knew that particular expression meant only one thing: _mischief_. "But I was wondering, if you don't mind me asking, how would you feel about working a little on your _interpretation_?"

"What do you mean?", Ari inquired, throwing her a suspicious glance.

"Well, I spend a lot of time with a little girl approximately your-", she waved at the toddler with one hand. "This age, and I can assure you that no matter how talented a child can be, there's no way he could form such long and articulated sentences", she mused. " _The talking_. Perhaps you should tone it down a little. Less formal and less omniscient would be a nice start".

" _I'm- How dare- What?_ ", Ari blurted out. "Fine", was her final word, muttered through already pursed lips.

Harry sighed a breath of relief. He deeply appreciated the silence.

"I'm sorry", Pansy mouthed again in his direction.

"Later", he mouthed back with an encouraging smile. "Let's go back".

If there was a part of Hermione with concerns about their relationship, he wanted to address them with Hermione herself.

Just to reassure her he was sure that Pansy, for him, was _the one_.

* * *

Blaise and Ginny were travelling south with the company of Ari's declination as a Valkyrie.

She was a tall, muscled woman with long and braided blonde hair, with a northern accent and not dressed properly for the occasion.

She'd remained silent for most of their trip, quietly scanning their surroundings as they looked for Hermione, and by now Blaise was sure that wherever the witch was hiding, it wasn't in the south of the island.

"We should take a break", he proposed. They'd just walked out of the forest and into the beautiful beach they'd firstly landed to with the Port-Key, not enjoying the view or the sun would have been a complete waste.

Ginny quickly followed him, sitting on his left side and removing the white sneakers from her feet in two swift gestures. She extended and curled her toes, clearly enjoying the feel of the cool sand between them.

Blaise copied her moves. "Sit with us, Valkyrie", he invited the woman.

She was a couple feet ahead, eyes fixated on the water. "It's odd. Of all the people on this island, you two are the ones who aren't freaking out to some degree", she mused, not bothering to look up at them. "Aren't you worried?"

"Of course we are worried", Ginny promptly answered. "Personally, I just don't think Hermione is made of porcelain. She's the one who rescues people, not the other way around. If she wanted me to, I'd go to war for her right this instant, but obviously she doesn't, does she?"

"I agree with Ginny", Blaise nodded. "Regardless, I don't think we would be the best people to talk to her right now. The problem here is her family, right?", he asked to one in particular. Strangely, Ari nodded. "I think Theo would be the best choice".

"I considered it, too", the Valkyrie admitted, glancing at the couple before she sat in front of them. She kept her sandals on. "But she's in a very fragile state, and she has a history of ruining relationships because she's so afraid of being rejected that she pushes people away- Anyway, what I'm saying is that Theo, unfortunately, is not our best pick right now. They're both hot-headed, things could go really bad really quickly".

"So, she's not here and she's not going to be in the east", Blaise mused.

"That leaves Harry and Pansy, or Malfoy and my brother", Ginny deducted. " _Oh, Merlin_! Tell me it's not-", she gasped. "Tell me it's not going to be Ron the one who finds her, because that's definitely not a reasonable option".

The Valkyrie smirked. "And why would that be?"

"They both pretend nothing ever happened, but there's unfinished business between them", Ginny replied.

"You mean your brother's _unrequited love_ for her", Blaise clarified.

"Precisely", she agreed. "And don't even let me start on Draco. We all know those two are legendary for their fighting".

"It looks like we're going to miss a rather emotional explosion, love", the wizard told his girlfriend, taking her hand in his and kissing the back of it. "Pardon me if it strikes me as odd, but is this the solution provided by- What is it that you're called? Oh, yes, _Artificial Rational Intelligence_? What you're looking for is… _emotional chaos_?"

" _Yup_ ", Ari shrugged, unapologetically. "My first solution was for Hermione to seek a place of solitude, blow off some steam and recollect, but now I think I might have miscalculated a couple details".

"In other words, our arrival fucked up your plan", Ginny concluded for her.

The Valkyrie smirked once more. "You're cleverer than many people give you credit for, Ginny Weasley", she praised.

Blaise was about to nod his agreement when the blonde talked again.

"And you, Blaise Zabini, are a better person than the one you were as a teenager", she said. "You've come a long way, I see".

He internally cringed.

How to condensate years of pain and misery, of lessons learned the tough way and remorse swallowed for breakfast, lunch and dinner?

He'd been terrible in his youth, but he'd come a long way since the end of the war, he'd turned his life and himself upside down, and he didn't like such a harsh reminder of how things had been.

Not when it still had the power to make him feel unworthy of the woman on his side, the one he'd desired so deeply and for so long, the one who'd finally brought the word happiness into the lonely picture of his life.

"He's an _awesome_ person, Ari. Thank you very much", Ginny defended him.

There was no trace of doubt in her voice, and that was the moment Blaise knew he was finally ready to say the fucking three words to her.

 _I love you_.

At the beginning of their relationship they'd decided to take things slowly, and at some point he'd held them back so much that no grand gesture felt _big_ enough for him to say them, but now, now he knew that he could, and it felt _awesome_.

Blaise promptly kissed the scowl out of Ginny's face, not giving a fuck if the Valkyrie was watching or not.

* * *

First things first, the view was positively lovely.

The place was so magical colours touched her eyes with an intensity they'd never had before in any other place; smells were more intense and sounds clearer, making their walk into nature a sweet rhapsody for her senses.

On top of that, the morning sun hit Theo's face with an angle that exquisitely enhanced his features and the graceful blue of his eyes.

"Everything will be fine", Luna felt compelled to say.

He'd been silent for most of their walk, answering with brief sentences and glances filled with something she couldn't quite defined. Yet.

"I feel responsible", he admitted after a while, as they entered a nice little clearing in the woods. "I should have been at her place first thing this morning, instead I-", he trailed off, grimacing.

 _Instead you were with me_ – she thought, but said nothing.

She knew how much of an emotional mess he was right now.

Luna quietly looked as the eagle who had followed them the whole time perched on a nearby low branch. "Hello again, Ari", she said.

"Luna Lovegood", the bird bowed his head a little.

Theo conjured up a table and two seats, then took a deck of cards out of the pocket of his jacket. The morning breeze was rather chilly, and the pair was grateful for their choice of a more appropriate attire.

"What are you doing?", she asked.

"Hermione's not here", he sighed. "I may have been in her life for a short period of time, but I know that a walk in nature while she's upset it's not who she is. There's that, and the fact that Blaise texted me and told me she wasn't going to be on this side of the island ten minutes ago", he shared.

Luna blinked, but quickly recovered from the surprise. "Perhaps we should head back, then", she suggested, uncertainly. "Did he tell you where she is going to be?"

"He doesn't know", Theo shrugged. "We'll head back to the mansion as soon as we're done with the game, I promise. I don't want to waste the lovely view", he clarified.

For the one-hundredth time since she'd met him, Luna wondered if Theodore Nott could read her mind.

The eagle flapped her wings a couple of times, landing gracefully on the table in front of them. "My presence here is no longer required", Ari said, and with that she left, flying higher and higher in the sky.

Luna smiled. "Your sister loves you, Theo, and there's no way you could have prevented what happened to her today. Accidents happen", she stated, softly. "You need to accept that".

"I know that, _rationally_ ", he told her, frowning at his own choice of words as he'd heard that one in particular one too many times that day. "But I still _worry_ about her. I can't help it. I just want her to be happy".

"That's a wonderful sentiment", she replied. "But you can't just wish things for them to happen, unfortunately. All you can do is to be there when she's ready to finally face her demons, because there's no way they'll stop haunting her until she confronts them".

Theo nodded. "You look beautiful, by the way", he said out of nowhere.

"I- Thank you", Luna blushed. "Umh, _what?_ "

She always felt so surprised when he paid her compliments: she'd grown up being called weird and ugly, after all, and no matter how strong she'd fought to put the past behind her, the witch was still extremely self-conscious.

"I was waiting for the _thing_ to leave", Theo admitted. "I wasn't actually going to suggest we play cards", he shrugged, throwing the deck behind his back. "Blaise told me Ari also tried to shame him in front of Ginevra, while Harry and Pansy re-emerged from the snowstorm that had prevented them from getting in touch any sooner and said they hate her".

"Oh, I understand", Luna muttered. "What shall we do, then?"

"Whatever you like, princess. Whatever you like", he offered.

Luna thought about her options, then raised from her seat and reached the other side of the table, perching herself on his lap and throwing her arms around his neck. "Would you mind enjoying the view a little longer?", she asked.

Theo nodded his agreement, placing a kiss on one of her cheekbones before nearing his mouth to hers. "Not at all", he said before he kissed her.

"So, it's up to Ron and Draco?", the witch asked minutes later, re-emerging from the making-out session. Her breath was accelerated and her hair a complete mess, while Theo had a delicate shade of pink lipstick smeared all over his face.

"I'm afraid so", he shrugged, hands lowering on her back until they reached her butt. "Should we go back now?", he wondered.

"We totally should", whispered Luna before she captured his lips again, forgetting their conversation and current mission altogether.

 _They could have five more minutes, couldn't they?_

Things between them came so easy they _deserved_ proper celebration.

* * *

Predictably enough, Draco spent most of his time with Weasley in silence.

For which, it must be said, he was deeply grateful.

The ginger still made him a little uneasy, and despite the fact he was still the one coming out on top of their confrontations, the blond really didn't want to argue with him now, not when there were more pressing matters that required his attention and with a talking cat following them.

Ari was strolling down the pathway with nonchalance, tail up and waving after her. "The volcano was one of the first things that were built, but most of the west area was added as an afterthought. That's why it looks huge from every perspective", she lectured.

"Tell me again why you're sure she's on this side of the island", Ron said to him, rolling his eyes at the cat's theatrics. "My phone died", he added, shrugging.

Draco handed him his own. "Here", he exhaled, sharply, inviting him to read for himself. He waited as the other's eyes quickly scanned through the chat, then put the phone back in the pocket of his jeans once he was done.

Ron sighed. " _So_ , we're the lucky guys who find Hermione".

"It appears so", Draco replied, unimpressed.

Right now, all he could bring himself to care about was finding the woman and asking her questions: there were many things he needed an explanation for, like the way she'd so nonchalantly tampered the fire at Malfoy Manor, or gifted his child a charmed bracelet with an advanced _Shielding Charm_ embedded in it.

The fact he couldn't stop thinking about her.

"On our left you can see the entrance to Hermione's gardens. Here's where she carries out her more… _botanical_ experiments", Ari was saying.

"We should check them out", Ron proposed. "Maybe she's curled up under a tree, reading a _novel_ or something-"

"As you wish", the cat said, solemnly. She gestured for the pair to follow her lead, then dived into the gardens with her chin held high and proudly.

They walked into a little oasis of green, where exemplars of many botanical species joined together to form a luxurious ambience.

They followed Ari to a greenhouse made entirely of glass, but if their hopes grew stronger when they noticed somewhere had been there not to long before them, later they were doubly disappointed when they realized Hermione wasn't there anymore.

Personally, Draco was growing tired of that game of _hide-and-seek_ she seemed to be playing – though he had to admit it wasn't entirely her fault: she hadn't asked for them to look for her or to come to her private island.

It was all _spontaneous_ on his part. Even accepting a partnership with Weasley without questioning.

"Ok, so here's where she comes to get _high_ ", he deducted, raising an eyebrow at the small glass table next to a white, outdoor couch: there was greenery scattered on top of it along with a rolling kit, a lighter, an ashtray and half an empty coconut. Next to these items sat an old-looking sketchbook.

"I've seen that before", Ron prompted, picking it up. "It's an old birthday present from Harry and I, it was during our sixth year, I think. We had Lupin charming it no never run out of paper", he added.

"Old habits die hard", chanted Ari. "She never separates from it".

"As amusing as Granger's call for art sounds, perhaps we should move on", Draco said, wiggling a suggestive eyebrow. "That, or we can take a ten minutes break and brainstorm", he extended one arm towards the table, picking up what was left of a blunt from the ashtray. "In any case, I'm not letting this go to waste, and neither should you, Weasley".

"Getting high ourselves is hardly the answer to our current predicament", Ron said, rather harshly, but then he seemed to really consider the proposition, because he propped himself on the sofa and nodded once. "Fine, _I'm in_. I'm willing to try anything that could make our cooperation more bearable".

Draco smirked. " _Cheers_ ", he sneered, lightning it up with a sharp flick of his wand. "Never learned how to properly use those", he gestured at the lighter, noticing the other wizard's furrowed eyebrows.

He sat next to the ginger and took a couple blows.

Ari was observing them from very little distance, strangely silent.

"Would you believe me if I told you I'm positively sure a lighter was _decisive_ in the outcome of the war?", Ron mused after a while, accepting the blunt he was offering him.

At his first attempt at smoking it, when he coughed dramatically, Draco knew it had to be Weasley's first time.

He could have mocked him right here right then, but he didn't.

A long time had passed since the days he couldn't pass an opportunity to put Ronald Weasley to shame or to embarrass him; Draco was a changed man, a better wizard than his teenage counterpart, and as long as the red-head was willing to not antagonize him, the Slytherin was ready to return the favour.

The past five years of his life had taught him how to put things into perspective, but mostly how to choose his battles, and this was definitely one he deemed not worth fighting.

"Which one?", he asked. "Which war was saved by a lighter?"

"The only one we personally lived", Ron replied, stiffly. He was getting better at the whole smoking thing, though, and now the blunt was getting shorter and shorter. He must have realized that, too, because he looked at it, blinked and then handed it back to Draco. His eyes were already as red as his hair. "Well, it wasn't exactly a lighter. It was a _Deluminator_ ".

Draco nodded. "Right. The _Deluminator_. It was on Potter's book. It's how you returned to them after Slytherin's locket made you leave", he stated simply, ignoring the way Ron looked suddenly on the defensive.

"Exactly", the Gryffindor admitted, blushing. "I still think Dumbledore was drunk when he wrote his will. I understand that if he were to make a guess on whose loyalty could sway first, his pick was bound to me and not Hermione, but still- I don't know if I'm supposed to think he already knew I would have eventually abandoned them or if maybe there was something else, some code that I was supposed to crack. But I didn't, and that would mean we won a _fucking_ war out of a _shit ton_ of luck-"

Draco listened, bemused, to his ramblings. Then he passed the blunt back to him. "You _kill_ it", he said, thinking he liked this version of Ron Weasley a lot more. Laid back and thankfully, for once, not _barking_.

There was no way the two of them could ever become friends, but he hoped they could at least tolerate each other's presence in the same room in a civil way.

Draco had nothing to gain by making an enemy out of an Auror. "Personally, I think Dumbledore put too much pressure on your shoulders", he shared after a while, blunt already dead in the ashtray. "Not only Potter's, but yours and Granger's, too. I was at Hogwarts when the three of you were camping, and there was a rumour going on about the two of you leaving the country and The-Chosen-One to escape to safety. I never believed that, but the Carrows, obviously, encouraged it and it spread all over the castle. It helped undermining the moral of those who were hoping you'd win. It weakened the _resistance_ ".

"But I really left them, didn't I? Even if it was only for a short period of time", Ron asked, and he found it oddly funny that he was asking for him to be his judge of character.

Salazar, how _high_ was he?

Not that Draco was doing any better, considering he erupted in a not-very-elegant bark of laughter. "You returned. That's what matters. That's what people remember of Potter's book. You can question yourself on a lot of things, Weasley, like your choices in _attire_ – he grimaced, eyeing the suspiciously worn out sweater – or even in Quidditch teams, considering you roll with the fucking _Channons_. But there's no way you can believably question your standing in the war. You're one of those who stood against Voldemort, I'm one of those who stood behind him, even if it was out of fear and coercion. It's as simple as that. As much as I'd like to change the past, one day I'll have to sit down and tell my daughter what kind of coward her father really is".

" _Fuck. That's sad, man_ ", Ron muttered, looking seriously sorry for him.

As Draco was about to try and change the subject, having realized he was getting into topics he preferred to discuss with probably anybody else in the world, Ari cleared her voice.

" _Emh, emh-_. If you gentlemen are done enjoying yourself, may I remind you that Hermione is _live-streaming_ whatever I'm witnessing in her brain right now?", she said, looking thoroughly pleased with herself.

"I'm sorry, _what_?", came from Ron.

"I'm not a real person", she started, speaking with the tone of voice of someone who's explaining something really simple to a particularly _not_ brilliant child. "I don't have a brain of my own, just a temporary archive with limited capacity where I can store things that happen before my eyes for later examination. I'm linked to Hermione's memories, as you already know, and that's where the data I gather ends up. I'm sure she'll be moved by your heart-to-heart".

 _What a fucking bitch_ – Draco thought. "Charming", he muttered through gritted teeth. "Really fucking charming".

"That's kind of creepy, by the way", Ron added. "Let's go find Hermione, shall we? I want to get rid of you sooner rather than later, Ari. _Pun intended_ ".

Coming from Theo or Blaise, or even Potter, the statement would have probably earned an affectionate smack on the shoulder, but having Weasley as his companion in the adventure, Draco managed to keep his reaction to a low chuckle.

Ari turned on her white paws without giving them another glance or waiting for them, and set back on the path that lead to the volcano.

The odd pair exchanged some kind of bemused glance before following after the talking cat.

 _Artificial Rational Intelligence my balls_.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello! Here's chapter twentieth. (:  
I'll try to keep updating on a weekly-ish basis, but unfortunately I can't promise I will.

You're probably very confused by some of the things in this chapter, like some of the interactions between the characters and mostly the place where they are, but be assured everything will be explained to you before the end of the story (and some stuff directly in the next update).  
So far, this is the longest chapter (around 9k words), but my favourites are actually the upcoming ones - idk, I just like every new chapter better than the previous, I guess, which is kind of good (?). I really hope you guys liked it, anyway.

That being said, have an amazing week and goodnight!


	21. ELECTRICITY

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **21.**

 **ELECTRICITY**

 **.**

" _giving up my ghost for you and now I'm see-through  
(…) and even if I could I wouldn't turn on you  
and I would stop the world for you  
you know I wanna let you know, I'll never let this feeling go_ "

* * *

 ** _( Unknown location – Australia,  
September 20th, 2003, around 9:15 a.m )_**

* * *

Ari left Draco and Ron alone as soon as they reached a closed iron gate on whose side sat a board with the words " _dangerous!_ ", " _do not enter the volcano_ " and " _restricted access_ ".

The former Gryffindor interrogated himself on the need for such a warning on a private island but didn't voice his doubts until Malfoy did it for him. "Sweet", Draco commented, eyeing the signboard. "Does she really think it could stop _any_ of us?"

Ron didn't reply to the that, focusing on the question that was burning in the back of his brain. "Why are _you_ so concerned about her?"

There was something in the frantic way he was carrying himself, like finding Hermione really was the most important thing to him right now, and Ron wanted to know what exactly it was: all his efforts couldn't possibly be justified with the fact he wanted to help his best friend with his sister.

"I know this may sound crazy to you, especially coming from me, but I'm _worried_ about her. I may not know her as much as you do, but the fact she's purposefully hiding from her brother and friends is concerning at best", Draco said with his usual composure, even adding a little shrug at the end, but Ron wasn't buying it, and he kept glaring as if waiting for the real answer while they climbed up the volcano on a passage obtained by magically carving stairs on its side. "Fine", the blond exhaled after a while. "I also have some questions to ask her about- About the attack at the Manor the other night".

Ron blinked. He'd read all the papers Harry had filled in about the accident, and not once Hermione's name had been made. "What does she have to do with any of it?", he asked.

"She's the one who prevented the _FiendFyre_ from burning my house", Draco supplied. "There was some kind of protection charm in a bracelet she gave my daughter. Luckily there was no one home when the attack took place and these people apparently didn't bother to check, but I still want to know what happened exactly. I'm terrified they might try again and be good enough to get a hold on Adhara-".

"They won't, Malfoy", Ron interrupted him. "You may not be my favourite person in the world, but I won't let _fucking_ Death Eaters mess with children ever again", he stated, seriously. "Nor will the rest of the DMLE".

"I appreciate the vote of confidence, Weasley, _I do_ ", Draco said. "But I think we've got that covered thanks to Granger's. Which is why I need to thank her".

Ron did his best to hide his spontaneous grimace. " _Yeah, right-_ Perhaps we should keep going", he muttered, quickening his pace to surpass him.

Draco spoke his next words so softly it could have been just his brain playing games with him. " _Thank you, too, Weasley_. _I mean it_ ".

 _Well, that was something new_.

* * *

As Draco Malfoy and Ron Weasley were oddly tolerating each other's presence no-wands-drawn, inside the volcano Hermione was having a little _epiphany_ of her own.

Like she'd done many times before when the _pressure_ had become too much to bear, the witch had retired to her private island to blow off some steam.

When her phone had alerted her of Dylan downloading her video, she'd known there was a possibility Pansy or the solicitor himself could make an appearance, but it had been only when Mr. Wade, the concierge of the building where she resided in London, had sent her an e-mail that she'd left the mansion, opting for the volcano after a brief pit-stop at her greenhouse.

She'd reached her limit with booze for the day, but she still needed something to take her mind off of her discussion with Jane, and homemade pot had been the perfect solution.

High as a skyscraper, she was currently sitting in the little lounge she'd conjured with a couple flicks of her wand inside of the empty volcano, a giant pool of lava occupying the middle of her improvised room.

She'd needed to cast four different Cooling Charms in order to ease the heavy temperature – the volcano wasn't real, or functioning, but she'd put lava in it for the sake of realism and that stuff was hot as hell – but she was satisfied with her current surroundings.

It was nothing compared to the beautiful pool waiting for her back at the mansion, but it was enough for now.

Hermione was going through the memories Ari had diligently archived for her, which were threatening to disturbe the state of euphoria she'd worked (smoked) so hard for: she watched as Harry and Pansy dealt with the obnoxious toddler in the middle of the snowstorm and laughed as Ginny and Blaise had their casual chat with the Valkyrie; the eagle's memory was the shortest and more uneventful, but it was the one that touched her the most: Theo deserved a wonderful girl on his side, and she was happy to see he'd chosen Luna, whom she loved and admired.

At last, going through the cat's memories, thereby making them _hers_ , Hermione smirked as she noticed who the members of the fourth rescue-team were: Ronald Weasley and Draco Malfoy.

 _What an odd pair_.

She watched, bemused, as they passed her blunt to each other, talking about their feelings like she'd seen Lavender and Parvati do many times in the Gryffindor tower.

She couldn't feel sorry for Ari when the two teamed up against her: not only there were times Hermione thought of her as nuisance, too, she had also opted for an unbelievable association that left her quite astonished.

" _Boys_ ", she muttered to herself with a giggle before reality finally downed on her. "Oh, _fuck_ ", she exhaled. " _Fuck. Fuck. Fuck_ ".

Hermione raised to her feet and started pacing one corner of the improvised room, carefully watching her steps as she walked next to the lava's pool frame.

As Ari said goodbye to the unlikely duo in front of the gate, the witch realized it was only a matter of time before they would have eventually found her: without much lucidity and still high as hell, Hermione Granger decided to stop running and prepare to meet them.

* * *

"Hello, _boys_ ", called a familiar female voice. "Welcome to _Fairytale_ ".

Draco and Ron bumped into each other in the dark as they both tried to follow the sound, falling down with their butts on the floor.

" _Ouch_!", came the Gryffindor's moan from somewhere on Draco's right.

Light filled the room, but he tried and failed to locate its source until his eyes focused on the female frame sitting on one of the three armchairs.

"Have a seat", Hermione invited them, gesturing with one hand to the couch in front of her.

As they walked towards the couch, Draco noticed the lava pool for the first time.

Nodding somewhat encouragingly to Weasley, he took his seat and waited for the man to do the same before speaking. On the coffee-table that divided them from the woman, sat three glasses he remembered seeing in a James Bond's movie. "Vodka Martini?", he asked.

" _Shaken_ , _not stirred_ ", she smirked, picking up the reference.

On his left, Ron looked like he'd been struck by lightning. " _Are- Are you fine? What's- What's this place?_ ", he asked the questions in rapid succession. " _Why?_ ", he concluded.

" _Fairytale_ is where I go when I really want to be alone, Ronald. Clearly, that wasn't possible today", Hermione said, stiffly. Then she sighed and shook her head, as if she was having an internal battle as to what to say next. "I've seen my parents for the first time in five years today- well, _yesterday_. Things didn't go well", she shared with them, sniffing. "Regardless, before you stormed on my island the plan was to simply take a walk on the beach, which I did, and then sleep through the massive hangover I knew it was coming".

"What happened?", Draco inquired, fixing his eyes on hers. They were red, but he didn't know if that was because she'd smoked or because she'd cried. "With your parents, I mean".

"I didn't manage to speak with my dad", she admitted. "Only my- Only with _Jane_. Even on her dying bed, she didn't want to see me. I walked in there thinking that after five years she would have been happy to see me, at least for a second, but she _didn't_ ".

"I'm sorry", Draco muttered, uncertainly. "What-"

"Your father cares about you, Hermione", Ron chimed in. "Maybe with some time-"

"It doesn't matter, Ron", she replied with painful honesty. "I genuinely hope Jane recovers and they live a long and happy life, but _I'm done_. I won't let them hurt me again".

Draco said nothing, observing her clenched jaw and deducing she wasn't in the right state of mind to go further on that particular topic.

He mentally hoped Weasley could understand that much on his own.

"You know you could have avoided all of this by simply answering to your phone, right?", he asked. "Perhaps people wouldn't have felt the need to chase after you if you just told them you wanted to be alone".

"Yeah, like that worked even once through the course of history", Hermione scoffed. "Besides, I know for a fact Pansy would have stormed in here long before she did if I told her where I was. This way I at least managed to gather a couple of hours of solitude".

"The Hermione I knew wouldn't have been so selfish", said Ron.

"The Hermione you knew never existed, _allegedly_ ", she sneered. "On that note, I'll have to talk with Theo about something rather soon. Would you mind drinking those – she gestured at the glasses – so that we can join the others at the house? This place is a _work-in-progress_ and as you can see – the lava pool seethed behind them – It's not fully stable. _Yet_ ".

Apparently, both wizards couldn't think of a comeback quickly enough, because they remained silent and followed her suggestion, picking up a glass each and started drinking it without even an attempt to make a toast.

" _Cheers_ ", Hermione said, sarcastically, bringing her own glass to the lips.

* * *

 ** _( Fairytale Island: the mansion, terrace – Australia,  
September 20th, 2003, around 9:50 a.m )_**

* * *

Returning to the mansion didn't take long: Hermione grabbed both men by their hands the moment they put their glass back on the table, where hers already sat, empty, and dis-apparated them.

The trio landed on the main terrace at the ground floor, and from the first glance around she could tell Pansy had something (anything) to do with the small refreshment that was currently being served by enchanted trays, which fluttered all shiny and polished under the sunlight.

One could remove Pansy _from_ the party but taking _the party out of Pansy_ was almost impossible: whenever she felt like there was something to celebrate – at this point she wasn't sure if that was a celebration for her birthday or simply the fact she'd been successfully located – it only took her a couple of charms to give any location the proper equipment.

With MagiTech's resources the witch had put together some of the most decadent, tasteful parties ever to be held in both the muggle and the wizarding world, but even on her own she was skilled enough to realize something worth remembering: tropical cocktails were placed on different trays that danced around the guests, magically finding those who'd already emptied their glasses; everyone's clothes had been charmed to turn into something more elegant with a simple, yet effective black and white colour-scheme.

People seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, at least until their brains registered the apparition "Pop!" and simultaneously turned their heads in their direction.

"Hermione! Thank _Salazar_ , I was worrying so much-", Pansy was the first to recover from the surprise, storming towards Hermione and capturing her in a bone-crushing hug. "I'm so glad you're okay", she added, more softly, whispering the words in her ear before she started pulling away.

Hermione stopped her, holding tighter. "I'm so sorry", she muttered, sniffing. "I shouldn't have disappeared like I did", she admitted, begrudgingly.

"No, you shouldn't have", added a male voice, and twenty seconds later another pair of arms was circling her shoulders. "Do not ever leave me in the dark like that again", Theo warned. "You'll be the _death_ of me", he added when he spotted the innocent, sheepish smile on her lips.

True, Hermione had come to Fairytale because she'd been feeling hurt and was seeking a place of solitude, but being surrounded by people who'd travelled to the other side of the planet just because they'd been worried about her felt overwhelmingly good: as someone convinced to be completely alone in the world, with ties bound to erode no matter what efforts she put into them, she was surprised and touched by the serious concern on everyone's face.

"Hermione", Harry exhaled when her brother eventually released her from his grip, pressing a loud kiss on her cheek. "What the fuck is going on with you?"

His tone was harsh, but his eyes were shining with something very close to amusement and Hermione struggled as she tried to find the proper way to face her oldest friend. " _I love you, too, Harry_ ", she said, simply, feeling suddenly compelled to share the sentiment. "I'm sorry I'm such a mess", she whispered, throwing herself in his arms.

" _Happy birthday_ , anyway", he sighed, returning the hug. "Please, don't ever let me come to Australia again because you're missing. I'd rather come here because you _invite_ me to take advantage of your pool".

" _My pool is your pool_ , Harry. I promise", she reassured him, smiling brightly as she looked up at him. "I'm sorry", she repeated.

"It's fine", Harry muttered, using one hand to ruffle up the top of her head. "Just… let's never repeat the experience. I've seen enough snow to last me a lifetime".

"Next time I'll make sure Ari sends you somewhere with a more enjoyable weather condition", the witch teased, but the smile died on her lips as she noticed his grimace. " _Too soon_ , perhaps?"

"Too soon", he confirmed. "Definitely too soon".

"I'm so glad you're okay", Ginny entered their conversation, approaching Hermione from behind and kissing her on the left cheek before she smacked a hand on her ass, playfully.

"You made us worry, Granger", followed Blaise, who kept his distance and simply bowed his head ever-so-slightly.

Hermione laughed at the nonsense and pulled both the wizard and his red-headed girlfriend into yet another hug.

"That was crazy even for you, Hermione", Dylan gently reprimanded her. "If you want to disappear for a little it's fine by me, you know that, but please, always make sure I have a way to get a hold of you".

The brunette waved his concerns away and kissed her friend on one cheek.

For someone who'd been fixated on the idea of spending the rest of the week mourning her old life completely on her own _and_ in a desert island, she was feeling and acting positively _sociable_.

" _Hello, stranger_ ", Luna greeted her with a warm smile. "You know that you don't _have_ to be alone, right?"

Her ability to read behind the lines and disregard anything even remotely trivial or superficial was one of the reasons Hermione was so fond of the blonde Ravenclaw, but she always felt very uncomfortable whenever she was the subject of her analysis: for someone as self-conscious as Hermione, _talking about her feelings_ was something she rarely did.

"Perhaps we should have a little gathering _just us girls_ one of these days", she suggested, betting on Luna's predisposition to pick up the overtones.

Hermione had realized she desperately needed talking with someone, and her girlfriends were an excellent prospect, but she wasn't ready to do that quite yet; most of all, she didn't wish to expose her bleeding heart to such a big audience.

"I'd love that", Luna nodded her agreement. "We haven't had a sleepover in the longest time".

"That's so true", Pansy chimed in. "Ginevra Weasley", she called, nudging lightly at the red-headed with her elbow, "Prepare for a night that will change your life".

"I could use some girl-time where I don't necessarily have to talk about Quidditch and brooms. Or _Cho's latest flirt_ , that is", Ginny said. "I'm in".

An " _Excuse me_ " came from Ron, who was oddly still standing next to Draco. " _Unlike the rest of us_ ", he started, judgementally glancing around. "I'd like some _real explanation_ for _whatever_ we've been doing all day".

"I already told you what happened", Hermione replied, trying to keep herself calm. The ginger had always been a champion in pissing her off, but right now the last thing she wanted was to get mad. She was so desperately _tired_. "I really needed to be alone and this was the only way I could get a couple of hours to myself before Pansy _eventually_ found me", she summarized her previous clarification, hoping it'd be enough, but she was clearly mistaken.

"Tell me why you're so adamant it would have been Pansy the one to find you, then", he spat. "I know you've been living the good life and you've probably forgotten about us, but Harry and I have been _fucking_ worried for you, too. Oh, and did I forgot to mention you have a _fucking_ brother now? That's not something you turn off like you do with your phone".

In front of Ron's accusations, Hermione was feeling incredibly _small_.

"That's enough, Ron", called Harry. "We have all the time in the world to discuss what's been going on with her. And trust me, we will", he promised.

"Are you serious, mate?", the ginger roared. "You're just going to leave it at that? Apology accepted and _friends like before_?"

"It's because it's not the same as _before_ that I suggest we wait and give Hermione some time to clear her head before she talks to us", Harry said, leaving him no room for reply. "Don't think I'm not pissed, upset or full of questions, because I am. But this is not the right time and hardly the right place. In case you didn't notice, it's _her_ birthday party we're trying to have right here. Just- Don't push it, _for now_. Alright?"

Ron gave his reluctant agreement in the shape of a brief, stiff nod before Harry's eyes focused on Hermione's. "I'll be at the Penthouse first thing tomorrow morning", he told her. "I'll bring breakfast".

Without waiting for an answer, he invited the rest of the people to sit at the table and let the party begin.

For a very brief instant, Hermione wondered if her friend had a problem with multiple personalities or something like that, then she shrugged and moved to reach one of the empty seats.

"I'm afraid you'll have to add me to the list of people who need to talk to you", said Draco, talking for the first time since they'd returned to the mansion. He'd probably approached her very silently, because she hadn't noticed his presence until he'd had his lips pressed against her ear. "About today _and_ yesterday".

"Of course you do", she replied, slightly breathless because of their close propinquity. "I'm sure I'll manage to fit you into my schedule", she teased, spontaneously.

"Not just into your schedule, _I hope_ ", Draco smirked, and she realized just how dumbly she'd served him the innuendo. "I'm serious, Hermione. I feel that if I don't talk to you very soon I'll somehow end up regretting it", he added, seriously, before pulling the chair away from the table for her.

Hermione stood there, immobilized, for a second, really touched by his choice of words; somehow, she found herself deeply reciprocating the feeling: she wanted to talk with him, too; somehow, he always made things look easier with his strangely-angled perspective, and life more effortless.

"Do you happen to have any previous commitments for tomorrow at lunch? I'll have to run some errands, but I promise it'll be fun", she proposed. "Otherwise, I should manage to find an hour or two in my afternoon schedule".

"I'll be happy to escort you through your errands", he said after pondering the two offers. "Lunch is fine by me".

"Good", she stated, simply, finally taking her seat as her fingers casually brushed against his. "Tomorrow, then".

* * *

 ** _( Fairytale Island: the mansion, hallways – Australia,  
September 20th, 2003, around 14:20 p.m )_**

* * *

The group had left the dining table around twelve in the morning, their stomachs full and their morals lifted up by the spirits served right after the dessert.

All things considered, the day was going surprisingly well.

After Ronald's initial outburst, the party had really started kicking in the right direction: conversations were generally more pleasant than awkward and nobody had stormed away in rage, which was so far the best result they'd so far achieved when dealing with this particular guest-list.

There had been the infamous dinner at Pansy's flat, for example, the one in which Theodore had confessed his engagement to be fake and Daphne had locked herself in the bathroom.

Today something everybody thought impossible was happening: Slytherins and Gryffindors were getting together to celebrate, their pasts left behind them, no antagonism implied in any shape or form that could be interpreted as mischief, only wizards and witches enjoying themselves ( _together_ ).

Blaise Zabini was thoroughly smug: as stupid as it may have sounded, the pleasant meal they'd just shared was tangible _proof_ of three things at the same: Voldemort and his reign of terror were gone for good, people could actually _change_ and _start over_ and last, but not least, life really was something enjoyable if you had the right people to live it with.

"On this wing we have some spare bedrooms and a couple of storage rooms. Now, if you'll follow me back down that hallway-", Hermione was telling, thoroughly focused on her improvised house-tour.

"She could go on for days", Ginny whispered from beside him. "Lecturing people", she clarified as an after-thought. "It's a nice sentiment, I guess. She wants people to know just as much as she does, though I have to admit I wasn't always very receptive, especially when we were younger".

"Nobody likes a walking _encyclopaedia_ as a teenager", he reassured her, keeping his voice very low as they strolled down the corridor at the very back of the rest of group. "Many don't understand _shit_ as teenagers".

Blaise kind of hated feeling this way: _unsure_.

For somehow whose confidence had always been encouraged and pampered, at first by his mother and then by the admiration and respect of his housemates at Hogwarts, he didn't enjoy the pull that constantly drove him to apologize to Ginny for the utter _asshole_ he'd been in the past, an event which generally occurred with no participation from his brain whatsoever, and worst of all, quite _randomly_.

The truth was that he was terrified of losing her.

"Some clean up rather amazingly when they become adults", Ginny said, smiling up at him.

"Some really do", Blaise replied, grabbing one of her hands and placing a delicate kiss on its back, his eyes never withdrawing from hers.

He watched her blush under his silent examination, focusing longer on the features of her face he liked the most: her lips were slightly parted, coated in a sheer layer of nude lipstick and stretched up in a little smile, while her brown eyes were looking back at him with intensity from behind their thick curtain of lashes.

"You're beautiful", he exhaled, this time kissing her pulse.

Blaise smirked as she blushed deeper, but their exchange was abruptly interrupted by Hermione's voice. "Here's my little jewel", she announced, her hands on the handles of an ancient looking wooden door.

The brunette opened it, revealing a massive library filled with tall shelves that framed the entire room, occupying most of the space; the rest of the furniture consisted in a couple of tables with an armchair and table-lamp each; in the north-east corner, a smaller section was surrounded by wall glasses. "That's where the oldest books and manuscripts are taken care of. There's a special charm that makes sure the pages don't get damaged buy neither sunlight nor humidity", she said, gesturing to the squared little space.

"As charming as this is", Pansy chimed in. "I'm already aware of the awesomeness of this place. Harry and I will wait for you at the pool, if you don't mind", she said, unapologetically. "He's already seen the best stuff, we'll just close it with the glorious note of the library".

Hermione glanced at her, shrugging. "Fine by me", she replied. "We'll just have the wine-tasting without you when we eventually get to the cellars".

Tired as he was, Blaise considered the possibility of joining of them, skipping the booze (he'd already had enough for the day, after all) and opting for lounging by the pool with his girlfriend in a bikini.

He was about to open his mouth when Ginny glowered at him. "Don't even think about it. You know I can't drink when I'm training and that is happening an awful lot with the Quidditch World Cup coming up next year", she said. "I'll have the wine-tasting. It sounds fun".

"Whatever you wish, _love_ ", he sighed. In a matter of hours she would have returned to Wales, where the Holyhead Arpies were based, for a retirement of two weeks.

If he wasted an opportunity to make her happy now just because he was a little tired, Blaise knew he would have regretted it as soon as she left.

The tour of the library took approximately an hour, during which they were all invited to take whatever they wished to read from her personal collection.

Blaise's attention had been captured by a muggle play titled "The Importance of Being Earnest", and the small volume was the only book currently sitting on his hands.

Ginny had opted for an eastern wizarding author she remembered being mentioned in McGonagall's class, and she was loaning from Hermione all three volumes of _Ego Pirakapi_ 's _Guide to Time-Saving Daily Enchantments_.

Apparently, her nights in Wales were just as lonely as his whenever she was out of town.

Draco and Theodore – unbelievable nerds – had been the ones asking most of the questions, especially regarding the restricted session, where the most valuable, rare and precious texts were kept.

The brunette possessed first copies of many staples in wizarding literature, and even titles for which hers was the only copy left in the world.

Truly charming, really, if only he weren't so incredibly eager to get a proper rest by the pool. The _jet-lag_ was really messing with him.

Dylan Dorne joined them again in that moment, apparently done with the urgent call he'd announced he was going to make; there was a rather obvious frown on his face when he returned.

"You're not going to like this", he addressed Hermione as soon as he entered the library. "We need to talk", he pressed when she continued reading her book.

"How bad is it?", she asked, nonchalantly, eyes still fixed on the pages.

"Augustus made a move", Dylan informed her.

Whoever Augustus were, and Blaise really had no idea, Hermione Granger seemed not to like him very much, because she cursed under breath before giving her guests an awful fake smile.

"Perhaps you should all join Harry and Pansy at the pool", she proposed, though it sounded more like an order than an invitation. "The wines will be served to you there. Ask Pansy for some bathing suits, she'll know what to do", she added, trying to make the offer more inviting.

"Fine by me", Blaise hastily agreed. "We'll see you there", he greeted, grabbing his girlfriend by the hand and dragging her towards the door.

"Wait for me, guys", Luna chimed in, kissing Theo lightly on the lips before joining them. "Hermione, you'll have to allow me access to your library sometimes".

"I'll go, too, I presume", Ron said.

Theodore was now standing next to his sister, arms crossed in front of his chest, and it was clear he was not going to leave like the others.

Blaise hesitated on the door. "Are you coming, Draco?", he asked, glancing at the blond.

The Slytherin looked strangely upset by his question, but nodded his agreement and reached for the door.

The heavy wood closed behind them in a single snap, leaving only Dylan and the Nott twins inside of the room.

"Let's go have that wine-tasting", Blaise smirked, surrounding Ginny's shoulder with one arm as the other patted Draco on the back of his neck.

He sighed, happily. It was amazing how sometimes things just _magically_ happened to go his way.

* * *

"What did he do?", Hermione growled as soon as the library's door was closed, and therefore their conversation officially confidential. "What is he up to?", she pressed.

"Nothing we weren't expecting, I'm afraid", the solicitor sighed, brushing a hand against his head. "He's been trying to turn the shareholders against you. On the good side, that much confirms just how desperate he is".

The witch took a deep breath and started pacing the room, sharply turning on her heels each time the available space ended, hands pulling at her head as she tried to keep calm.

Her strategy clearly wasn't working very well, because she completely alienated herself from her surroundings until her brother grabbed her by the shoulders and forced her to stop moving.

"Look at me", he ordered in a calm, soothing voice. "Whatever it's happening with this guy, it's not that big of a deal".

"He tried to win Mrs. White's favour, but she called _me_ , so I think we can take that as a statement of where her loyalty and her husband's truly lies", Dylan added with a reassuring smile. "He also tried to contact the Japanese investors, but I very much doubt they'll try to lose their stakes in the company by helping him with his _coup d'etat_ ".

"That's not my concern", Hermione waved him off. "Once I deal with Augustus Martin there will be someone else who'll try to screw me. Godric knows there have been many before him", she lamented, but she now looked a lot less fragile than she'd done just a couple of seconds before.

Her brother had that effect on her: no matter how weird and unnatural their relationship could sometimes still feel, whenever he stood by her side she instantly felt better.

"Who's this guy?", Theo asked. "Wasn't Martin your husband's surname?", he added.

" _Ex_ -husband", Hermione corrected him, stiffly. " _Fake_ husband. Our marriage was a joke. But to answer your question, yes, his name's Lex Martin, and Augustus would be his father…", she trailed off.

"The one scheming to steal your company", he finished for her.

"Augustus Martin is a joke", Dylan prompted. "And I promise you that we'll expose him, eventually. I'll keep looking for a way to force him out of the board, but I'll need you to be a good girl and work with the P.R. office to make new contacts. We need someone to buy his shares once we finally manage to kick him out for good".

Before the brunette could say anything, Theo interrupted her. "Can't you just kick him out and buy the shares yourself?", he inquired. "You're certainly not missing the money, but even if you did there's our inheritance that you have complete access to".

"I really wish I could, Theo", Hermione replied with a sigh. "But I have some _special agreements_ with my shareholders, and I already own sixty-nine percent of MagiTech, which is the maximum amount I've established with them when we signed our contract four years ago", she explained.

If it was for her, she'd have bought her _entire_ company back a while ago, the first time she'd found herself with enough money to do so on her personal accounts.

But the contract had her sign on it, and it was magically binding for five more years.

"I'll find those investors", she promised Dylan. "But you must keep an eye on the headquarters until I come back, and you should really schedule a trip to tighten our bond with the Japanese stockholders".

"Consider it done", he replied. "But, Hermione? Perhaps you should consider anticipating your return".

"Is that so?", she asked, arching one eyebrow.

"Most managers are kind of lost without your direction, and I can hardly keep up with them and the rest of my work, not to mention the investigation on Mr. Martin", Dylan said. "I know you have a life in England just as much as you have one here, just make sure you don't end up sacrificing either one of them".

"The inauguration party", the witch murmured. "You know I obviously can't miss that. Not with the kind of money I've put into this project, anyway. The power struggle in Sydney can wait a little longer, and it's not like we have enough elements to get rid of Augustus very soon".

"After the inauguration party, then", the solicitor nodded. "Look, Hermione, I'm really sorry to be bothering you with this right now. I know you just found your brother and that you missed your friends, but we must take care of this before it becomes a real issue. As soon as we're done with that, you can take a year for yourself as long as I'm concerned".

Hermione _loved_ the idea. "I'll probably do that for real", she said. "I don't know what I was thinking when I picked this life for myself. I have all of _this_ ", she sighed, dramatically, gesturing at the shelves filled with books that surrounded them. "And I don't have the time to fucking _read_ it".

"I'm sorry", Dylan repeated, raising from his seat on one of the armchairs. "Now, if you'll both excuse me, I have to apparate back to Sydney", he announced, approaching the twins. He kissed Hermione on both cheeks, then offered Theo his right hand. "I'll see you at the inauguration party", he said, addressing Theodore. Then to his sister: "I'll talk to you soon. Call me tomorrow, maybe?"

Hermione gave him a sad smile. "Can't you stay a little longer? It's my _fake birthday party_ , after all", she prompted.

"I'm sorry, princess", he excused himself, taking his wand out of the pocket of his suit. "I'll make sure to be there for the real one, though. You can tell me when that is when you call me. _Tomorrow_ ", he repeated. "Otherwise, I'll see you at the inauguration party".

"Until next time", she conceded, smiling one last time at her friend before he turned on the spot and apparated away.

Hermione waved her hand at the point where Dylan had been standing, then turned her head to face her twin. "Don't look at me like that, Theo", she said, noticing the weird expression on his face. "Everything's under control", she added, tentatively.

"Under control?", Theodore asked, and the outrage in his voice didn't fall on deaf ears. "You haven't got _shit_ under control, Hermione! I just spent half of my day wondering about on an island that is not on maps, and all of that because you didn't grant me the _courtesy_ of letting me know you were fine. And now you want to leave again? How is that you've never mentioned that before?"

"Calm down, Theo", she suggested, trying to maintain her own composure at the same time. She didn't like his patronizing tone one bit. "First of all, you always knew I would have to come back to the life I've lived for the past five years, eventually. Regardless, I already apologized for what happened earlier, but as you may have not realized yet, I've had a fucking bad day!"

"I also remember you saying you could do most of your work through your phone, and that you were also tired of spending your existence tied to your desk", he countered. "You've been so good at telling me to _fuck the system_ , but when it comes to you…", he trailed off, like he wasn't sure what is punchline was exactly meant to be.

"I said that once, and I was drunk in _Ibiza_ ", Hermione said, rolling her eyes. "Besides, you had a job you weren't even qualified for and that didn't stimulate you one bit, I'm head of a company that I built myself, into which I poured my blood, sweat and tears for four _bloody_ years. I can't just forget about it. That's not who I am, Theo".

The witched sighed, suddenly realizing she was very close to crossing a dangerous line: Hermione obviously hadn't meant to brag, she was hardly the type, but she needed to make sure Theo understood just how important her job and MagiTech were to her.

In a way, she thought of that as her _lifetime commitment_ , as obviously she wasn't going to get married for many years to come.

She'd dated some men in her life, and though they'd been all very different from each other when it came to their personalities, one thing had happened in every single occasion: at some point along the way, their paths had divided and never crossed again.

No matter how head of over heels she was with Draco Malfoy right now, she knew the _paradox_ would eventually find a way to destroy itself; it was really only a matter of time, and despite how desperately she was trying to shield herself from _feeling for him_ , Hermione possessed enough intellectual honesty to admit to herself that it was already too late for that.

Instead of foul attempts at preventing the fall, she was preparing herself for it, hoping with all her heart that it wouldn't hurt as much as she was afraid it _could_.

* * *

"Calm down, Theo", Hermione said in a warning voice, and it was clear how much she was struggling to follow her own advice. "First of all, you always knew I would have to come back to the life I've lived for the past five years, eventually. Regardless, I already apologized for what happened earlier, but as you may have not realized yet, I've had a fucking bad day!"

The Nott twins were famous with their friends for the temper-tantrums they were able to throw every once in a while, whenever they reached their limit, but for the pair to do so simultaneously, well, that was new: usually, when one was upset the other would try to make him feel better and vice versa.

But this time they were both getting pissed off rather quickly, of that much they were conscious, and Theo knew it could take only a couple of not-so-carefully chosen words to ruin the relationship he'd worked so hard to build with his sister.

"I also remember you saying you could do most of your work through your phone, and that you were also tired of spending your existence tied to your desk", the dark-haired wizard replied, trying to keep his cool. "You've been so good at telling me to _fuck the system_ , but when it comes to you…"

"I said that once and I was drunk in _Ibiza_ " she interjected, and he didn't miss the moment she rolled her eyes. "Besides, you had a job you weren't even qualified for and that didn't stimulate you one bit, I'm head of a company that I built myself, into which I poured my blood, sweat and tears for four _bloody_ years. I can't just forget about it. That's not who I am, Theo".

He didn't miss the guilty expression she assumed as soon as she was done talking, either; despite the fact he was the more hot-headed of the pair, Theo knew that his twin sister could be _nasty as fuck_ when properly instigated.

Theo tried not to be hurt by her words, but failed spectacularly, especially because they were true. Their situations were completely different: anything Hermione had, she'd worked her ass off for it, while he'd been handed a prominent position in the family's company and lots of money just because their father had died.

Even if he was really putting all his efforts into shaping the rest of his life, he still felt like what he was doing wasn't enough, like _he_ wasn't enough.

No matter how patiently Luna had tried to talk him out of this specific flavour of toxic logic, for a member of House Nott validation came from his _family_ , it was the most important thing of all, and in this very moment Theo felt completely, utterly worthless.

"I'm not asking you to give up on _shit_ , Hermione", he said, serious but calm. "I'm asking you to take a better care of yourself since you won't allow me to help you in that regard. I may not be a successful businessman like yourself or the Wizengamot's _High Warlock_ I wanted to be as a kid", Theo trailed off, two pairs of identical eyes looking into each other. "But I've seen enough of life to tell you that the one you're choosing for yourself is a lonely one, and it doesn't necessarily have to be like that".

"Well, I've seen enough of my life to know for a fact that it doesn't matter what I do, not really. Everyone purposefully leaves me alone at the end of the day", Hermione countered, sniffing.  
 _  
_It was _then_ that it finally hit him: even if his sister sometimes looked and acted like she was made of _stone_ , her heart was even bigger than her incredible brain, and she'd been hurt way too many times.

He needed to stop seeing her residual reticence as a personal insult, as her way of refusing him and the bond they were creating and started to figure out a way of showing her that he always had him by her side, rather than just demand of her to believe so.

Hermione- _Eloise_ deserved better.

"That was your life before _me_ ", he stated, softly. "You're everything I have left of my family, and it doesn't matter how much it sucked to grow up without you and our mom, all alone with our brainwashed father. Now you're here, and I've spent half of my life wondering what things could be like with you by my side. You're the person I want to celebrate the next eighty Christmases with".

" _Theo, I_ -", she started, but he waved her off with one hand.

"Let me finish", he pleaded. Theo Nott wasn't the best when it came to _talk about someone's feelings_ , but he knew his sister needed him to do just that right now. "I know the bonds in your life have been rocky _and_ disappointing for the most part, and I know there's a lot of people who _hurt_ you. You don't trust easily, and I completely understand that, because it's the same for me. What I'm trying to say here is… I will not end up in that category, Hermione. We may fight and be mad at each other, but I want to know that I'll always be by your side when you need me. I won't _disappoint_ you", he reasoned.

Seeing as no answer was coming from her, the wizard looked up once again and noticed the tears streaming down her cheeks: her eyes were now blood-shot and red, her lashes glued to one another, and her lips slightly departed, as if she was struggling to breath.

"Hermione?", he called.

"Yes?", came as a whisper.

"Will you please call me and talk to me the next time something bad happens to you?", Theo asked in a soothing voice. He'd taken a couple steps in her direction, and when she nodded her reluctant agreement he started rubbing circles on her back with one hand as the other gently erased her tears. "I won't ask you to do the same with the good ones if you don't wish to do so, but please. Talk to me before you start thinking no one cares about you".

He knew he'd scored the victory goal when she threw her arms at his neck, sobbing with no control, and started murmuring apologies as she kept crying on the side of his neck. "I'm so sorry", she sniffed.

Theo grimaced. He'd known what nerve to hit merely because it was a sore point for him, too. Perhaps they were more similar than he'd initially thought. "You still haven't answered my question", he pressed. "Will you come to me the next time?"

"Yes, Theo. I will", she said, smiling tentatively. "I'm sorry I've ruined your date with Luna the other night, by the way".

"It's not a big deal. Draco's my best friend and I spent half of my childhood in his house. I would have been called even if you weren't there", he replied, hoping it was enough to make her stop feeling guilty about it. "Besides, your escapade here allowed me to see her again today, and Ari was kind enough to send us to the east coast".

"I still can't believe Lucius Malfoy is my godfather", Hermione mused after a while. "I mean, I've known that man as a _villain_ for half of my existence".

Unluckily for her, he'd always been a very receptive person, and he immediately noticed which part of his speech was sticking with his usually very noisy (at least about his love life) sister.

Her attention for the Malfoys was something he'd hoped for, being as close as he was with the family and knowing they weren't half as bad as people thought them to be, but he was a little curious about her timing.

 _What was going on between her and Draco? Why was his mate the only person who'd received a reply from her the day before?_

Theo decided to keep his thoughts to himself for later (and deeper) examination. "Lucius was always stronger than our father in fighting the grip Voldemort had on him, especially after our mother's death. When the Dark Lord returned to England behind Quirrell's head during our first year at Hogwarts his mark was almost faded. By the time the Basilisk was spreading terror in the school, well, you know who gave Ginny Weasley Riddle's diary. In the lifespan of a summer he turned from day to night. Our father's transition was less remarkable, we could say. His heart was already darkened by your loss and then our mother's", he shared.

"I think I'm ready to read his letter", Hermione muttered after a while.

" _Eventually_ ", he snickered. "Not today, if I may give you a suggestion?"

"Definitely not today", she nodded. "I'm ready, but I still don't want to rush into this, if you know what I mean. Besides, the letter's in London, anyway".

"Do you want me to be there when you read it?", he asked.

"I'll let you know", she replied, uncertainly. "I honestly haven't decided yet".

"It's fine", Theo re-assured her, squeezing her one last time before releasing her from his hug and taking a step back. "We a have pool party waiting for us now, if I'm not mistaken".

"Oh, no, you aren't", Hermione giggled. "Let's go fetch some swimsuits, then".

Her eyes were still red and puffy, but the smile on her face was tangible proof that she was in a better place now.

Theo felt immensely proud for proving himself able of washing her sadness away.

Knowing his parents, wherever they were, were probably proud of him, too, felt even better.

* * *

 ** _( Fairytale Island: the mansion, pool – Australia,  
September 20th, 2003, around 16:00 p.m. )_**

* * *

The location was breath-taking, the weather amazingly good and the company not half as bad as he would have thought, but still Draco couldn't find it in himself to enjoy his time _chilling_ by the pool.

As the others dived into the water, tasted wine and chatted amicably around him, the blond sat on an outdoor chaise-longue, frowning at the man perched next to him on the white fabric.

"What do you think Dylan needed to tell her?", Blaise Zabini asked for what felt like the millionth time.

Draco shrugged. _Again_. "I really have no idea", he confessed, stiffly.

He knew whatever bell was in his mind should have already rang by now, so he was resigned to the fact he would have to ask directly if he wanted some answers: the real question was _whom_.

"Why don't you ask her yourself, anyway?", he added, pointing a finger to behind his back. "Theo and Granger are coming this way".

"Perhaps we could question Theo", Blaise said, conspiratorially. "If we get him drunk enough he'll sing like a little bird".

"Be my guest", Draco replied, emotionless.

Zabini's reply was interrupted by two hands smacking on the back of their necks. "Good evening, guys", called Theo's voice behind them. "What are you doing? Mind if I join you?", he asked, then sat on the chaise-longue next to the one they were sharing without waiting for a reply.

"Sure", the blond smiled. "Blaise, why don't you go get those drinks you were talking about?", he prompted, smirking at his dark-skinned friend.

Even though he hadn't initially sounded very interested in Zabini's devious plan, now putting it into act could be the perfect occasion to get Theo alone and ask him some of the questions that were burning in the back of his mind.

"I got you", Blaise said, standing up and walking to the improvised bar on one corner of the patio where the pool was located.

"So, is everything ok?", Draco asked, nonchalantly, as soon they were alone.

"Sure. Everything's fine", Theo replied with a content sigh. "Things with Luna are going great, and I think I finally made a step in the right direction with Hermione".

"I still can't believe you're dating Luna Lovegood", Draco exhaled, testing the territory. Theo was still very much sober and possessed an intellect that was not to be underestimated: he had to be careful if he wanted to extrapolate some information without him noticing. "I don't know her very well but she seems a nice girl", he added, spotting the defensive look on Theo's face.

"She's great", the other said. "You know that I'm kind of new to this whole _dating_ thing, but she's worth it".

"I'm sure she is", Draco replied, uncertainly. It wasn't like he knew much about the witch. _Yet_ , as things between his best friend and her seemed to be going in the direction of _forever_. "Dylan was as _unpleasant_ as the first time we met him?", he asked, deciding it was the right time to set the conversation on the subject he really wanted to discuss.

"He's not that bad", Theo frowned. "I mean, I would never hang out with him, but he cares about Hermione and he's good at what he does, which is keeping her safe. I can't really complain about that".

"Nope. I suppose you can't. What did he want, anyway?", Draco pressed, doing his best to look casually uninterested in his answer.

"Salazar, I'm not sure if I can discuss this with you, to be honest. When my sister signed me off a part of her company there was a massive non-disclosure agreement I still haven't finished to read", the dark-haired man replied. "Whatever. I can trust you, right?"

"Always", Draco replied, lowering his voice just a little. Of all the things he'd just said to him, it was the only one coming out of his mouth spontaneously. "So, what happened?"

"Lex's father trying to turn some investors against her. Allegedly, everything's under control and we'll get rid of the problem sooner or later", Theo shared. "She'll have to return to Sydney at the end of next month, though".

There was a sad smile on his face now, and Draco wished he could comfort him in anyway; Theo looked positively depressed at the idea of his sister leaving the country _again._

Not that Draco was happy about that particular possibility, either.

"Here you go, gentlemen", called Blaise, who was returning with a silver tray of three identical glasses. They were filled with Odgen's finest and they instantly reminded him of many nights spent drinking with his best friends in the dungeons.

 _Those were good times, weren't they?_ For the most part, at least.

Zabini charmed the tray to float next to them, and they each took one glass in their hands. "To pool parties", he smirked, raising his own.

"To the genius who invented bikinis", added Theo, his eyes fixed on one corner of the pool, where Luna was happily splashing in the water in a forest green swimsuit.

"To the guy who invented Port-Keys", concluded Draco, glancing around to look for the girl _he_ wanted to see wearing a bikini.

Grimacing, he noticed she was nowhere to be found.

The wizard was determined to finish his drink and go looking for her when he heard her voice coming from behind his back.

"Are you enjoying _Fairytale_ so far?", Hermione asked, stepping out of her corner and coming into view. She was still wearing her white sundress, but now that she was close he could spot the outline of her bathing suit through the sheer white fabric.

"I'm sorry, what's _Fairytale_ now?", inquired Blaise, brows furrowed, emerging from his glass.

"It's the name of this island", she explained. "Nothing here follows the rules that apply to the rest of the world, especially with _physics_. I thought it was particularly appropriate, since the main landscape was inspired by a story I used to love when I was a kid".

"I'm probably not familiar with said book, but the outcome is remarkable", Blaise nodded his approval. "This place is awesome", he complimented her.

"I do what I can", she waved him off with a shrug, though it was obvious how much she was proud of herself for realizing something as impressive.

She'd created land out of nowhere, in the middle of an ocean, and built her personal paradise there from complete scratch, even assigning a different season to the four different coasts.

It was a display of magic that wasn't common _at all_.

Bragging apparently wasn't her goal, though, because she cut off the discussion and changed the subject. "You should try the pool if you haven't already", she suggested. "Sunset is scheduled for two hours from now".

"I should probably go find Ginny, then", Blaise said, standing up and brushing some invisible wrinkles from his swim-trucks. "Once we're back in London she has to immediately leave for Wales", he added as an explanation for his hastiness.

"Have fun!", Hermione called at his back, encouragingly.

Meanwhile, Draco was growing increasingly aware of her presence around him: not only she kept flashing him glimpses of her flaming red bikini whenever the light hit her sundress with a certain angle, she also joined her brother on the chaise-longue in front of him, crossing her legs.

Were they alone, he obviously wouldn't have minded the view; but things being as they were, with Theo watching over them, the display of tender, sun-kissed flesh was driving him insane: he was doing his best not to watch, but his eyes were constantly drawn back to her as she moved and talked to her sibling; what was worst, he couldn't manage to look her in the eyes, because he knew that most of his thoughts would have been very easy to read in that case.

Nope, it wasn't appropriate.

The man returned to reality when he heard his daughter's name.

"How's Adhara recovering from the other night?", Hermione asked, brushing one hand on one of his knees as she gently leaned on his direction. "She must have been really scared", she added.

"Not nearly as scared as she would have been without the bracelet you gave her, Granger", Draco replied with a smirk. "Speaking of which, I'd like to know exactly what kind of charms are hidden in there, if you don't mind".

" _I don't_ ", she smiled back. "I understand you may want to know what kind of unknown magic is currently sitting on your child's wrist. It's nothing major, I assure you. I didn't want to overstep in any way. There are only two pendants: one is the Shielding Charm you've already seen, the other is just a piano sonata I find particularly beautiful and comforting and it should play whenever she feels lonely, _allegedly_ ".

"Hermione would never hurt Adhara, if that's what you're worrying about", intervened Theo, finally emptying his glass and placing it back on top of the floating tray.

"I'm sure that's not what he meant", Hermione countered for him, simultaneously snatching his own from his hand and throwing what was left of _Odgen's Finest_ down her throat. "Or was it?", she asked, unapologetically, batting her long, dark eyelashes.

"It was not", Draco waved her off. "I just wanted to make sure I'll recognize her first display of magic if she ever has one", he confessed.

"We already talked about this, mate", the dark-haired Slytherin said with a softer tone. "Adhara will be an amazing witch".

"I don't care if she will or not, Theo", he replied. "It's not knowing that it's _killing_ me. She's three years old and I don't know if I'm supposed to enroll her for kindergarten or buy her a _toy-broom_ ".

He always tried to look positive about this topic, mostly because he didn't want his child to feel _less_ if she actually ended up having no magic, but Draco was growing tired of the uncertainty.

He wanted to make the best decisions possible in regards with her future, and right now he just couldn't. He hated feeling so completely powerless.

"Maybe I can _help_ ", Hermione prompted with a gentle smile. "I mean, I- I can tell you if she's magical or not, Malfoy. I can even check on it while she's asleep so that she won't have to know about any of it, whatever the response is".

Draco blinked, taken aback by her proposal. _It was that simple, then? He had a problem and this amazing woman just happened to have the solution and to offer it to him?_

" _Malfoy_ , _are you there_?", she called after a while.

He still hadn't replied. " _Oh, I- Uh, Granger-_ Yes, that would be _immensely_ appreciated. And _extremely, unnecessarily_ kind of you", Draco thanked her. Then, not sure as to how to progress, he returned his attention to Theo. " _Problem solved_ ", he winked.

Nott returned his smirk, but something in the way he was looking at him, like a fox does with its prey, made Draco feel under scrutiny.

It was like there was something Theo knew about him that Draco had yet to discover – _or better, he already knew but couldn't possibly guess_.

"I'll go look for Luna now. Besides, I still have a pool to try out", he announced, raising from his seat on the white chaise-longue and pressing a kiss on his sister's cheek. "I'll see you later".

" _So_ ", Hermione gently bit her lower lip as soon as they were left alone. "How are _you_ doing after the other night?", she asked.

The brunette was looking into his eyes with such an intensity the thought of lying to her never crossed his mind. " _I'm scared as fuck_ ", he admitted, albeit begrudgingly. "This is not a random attack in Diagon Alley. This was _fucking_ personal".

She could have lied, too, but Hermione Granger was famous for being the better person, and once more she remained faithful to her moral code. "I know. _They wanted to kill your family_ ", she said.

It was the first time someone had the courage to say it out loud.

"Thank you for protecting us. It's ok if you don't want to tell me how you've done it, but thank you, nonetheless", Draco told her, using his fists as leverage as he sat up and joined the witch on her chaise-longue.

They were close now, and he could feel her body's warmth brushing in light waves on top of his exposed skin.

Spending most of his life in strictly wizarding Wiltshire and Scotland, Draco had been introduced when he was already mature to concepts like _going to the beach_ or _girls wearing bikinis_ , therefore it was still a little strange for him to stand in front of a large crowd of people with only what looked like a slightly more covering version of cheap underwear.

No matter how confident he was of his chiseled body, he still flinched slightly when he noticed the witch checking him out.

Not that he hadn't been doing the same since the moment she'd appeared, to be honest, and he was less exposed than the times they'd been naked together; taking a deep breath, Draco ordered himself to calm down.

"It was nothing", she said after a little while. "I would have done it for anyone, Draco, believe me".

"But you did it for me, and that matters to me. So, thank you", he repeated.

"I have all the time to tell you how I extinguished the _un-extinguishable FiendFyre_ tomorrow at lunch", Hermione smirked. "You are welcome, by the way".

Without thinking about it twice, Draco grabbed one of her hands, squeezing it tightly before flashing a smile at her. "So, _everyone and their mother_ has been talking about your pool today", he prompted.

Hermione chuckled, returning the squeeze. "I _beg_ you, Malfoy _, be my guest_ ", she said, sitting up and inviting him to do the same. "Unfortunately, I have all these guests, otherwise I could have shown you the _Jacuzzi_ ", she trailed off, releasing herself from his grip and preceding him on the direction Blaise and Theo had left for before.

Hiding a smile, Draco set out and chased after her.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Here we go. Wow, it's been a while. I'm sorry.  
I've been really busy irl, the usual stuff.  
I hope you enjoyed this chapter. It's kind of weird, but it builds up for the next one,  
which contains my favourite Dramione scene so far. :))  
Get ready for that. I'll do my best to update as soon as possible this time around.  
Chapter twenty-second will come with a map it took me hours to design in photoshop,  
but unfortunately I don't think it's possible to put it directly on this website, so it'll be  
posted on my tumblr (username godisawitchfic).  
Also, please check out the poll on my page, I have a new poll and I need your help. :))  
As usual, I hope you have an amazing day!


	22. OPEN SAFE

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **22.**

 **OPEN SAFE**

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" _no brakes, road rage, my new money gonna die of old age  
when they shoot me, we don't race, we gon' need our own space  
need a piece of that pie, we gon' need it homemade  
I be coming home late, bad bitch, long face  
she do every single thing but rub me the wrong way_ "

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 ** _( Florean Fortescue's Ice-cream  
Parlour – Diagon Alley, London, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 7:30 a.m )_**

* * *

Barely managing to keep his eyes open as the sun invaded the popular wizarding venue, Harry Potter entered Fortescue's very early that morning, eager to run his errand in as little as time as he possibly could.

Buying some breakfast to take away wasn't supposed to be a nuisance, but for The-Chosen-One even an event so _not_ worth of notice became a quest: it was seven past thirty in the morning and most people were still peacefully sleeping in their beds, while he'd already dodged a crowd of paparazzi on his way out from the Ministry at the end of his night-shift.

Notoriety was something many probably could have killed for, but to Harry it meant nothing: he knew his _fans_ actually didn't care much about him, preferring the hero to the actual person, and over the years even someone as good-hearted as him had become more and more wary when meeting strangers.

Harry had been wondering since age eleven about the repercussions his popularity could have on his personal life, but it had been only after the end of the war, when he'd finally rid the world from Voldemort's presence once and for all, that the wizard had finally realized what it meant to be the _Saviour of the Wizarding World_ , as the Prophet still called him.

Against his personal preference he'd been turned by the press into a shiny herald of the Ministry, and for the past five years he'd had to endure the harassment of photographers or journalists every single time he'd set foot in Diagon Alley.

That's why he usually preferred to run his errands at times there were less people around, so that at least he could spare himself from being stopped by giggling mothers who wanted him to take a picture with their toddlers.

He couldn't say no to _children_ , obviously, so he'd started avoiding them altogether, focusing all his _paternal instincts_ on the little boy he was helping to raise: ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, when Teddy had become an orphan, Harry had grown to consider both he and Andromeda as part of his _family_ , just as much as the _Weasleys_ were, and there was nothing he wasn't willing to do to ensure he got the happy childhood that he'd never had.

Every kid deserved to grow surrounded by love and support, especially if he or she had lost their parents and were left without guidance and care.

"Good morning, Florean", he greeted the aged man behind the Parlour's counter. He was currently occupied decorating some pastries, but left his work as soon as he recognized the voice addressing him.

" _Harry Potter_ ", the man said, bowing his head. "One of my favourite customers. What can I do for you today?"

"I need to buy breakfast for a party of two", he explained, hoping to receive some aid from the other wizard. Pansy was ten times better than him at making this type of decision: it usually took Harry ages, and right now he was kind of in a hurry. He hadn't slept all night because he'd had been working, but he still had to see Hermione before he could finally return to Grimmauld Place and throw himself in his king-size bed. "Do you have any recommendations?", he prompted.

"You should try our _Summer Emotion_ if you haven't already", Florean proposed. "I can promise you the combination of almond and apples is _extraordinary_ ", he guaranteed, picking up a yellow cake from his glass display. He cut a generous-sized slice from it, then put it into a paper plate and handed it to Harry. " _On the house_ ".

Grabbing a little, white paper napkin, the Gryffindor took the piece of pie and took a bite, moaning as the ingredients awakened his taste buds. "That's delicious", Harry said, sincerely. "I'll take _two_ ".

One for his breakfast with Hermione and the other for later in the afternoon, when he'd wake up and probably have no desire to cook himself a proper meal. Besides, he wanted Pansy to try it, too.

Florean nodded, beaming, then quickly turned on his heels to reach the pastel blue door behind him. He opened it and hid his head in it, ordering someone to get him two specially wrapped _Summer Emotions_.

"How much is it?", Harry asked when the man returned to him.

"For you it's free, Mr. Potter", he replied. "I'm glad you enjoy my pastry".

"I can't possibly accept that", Harry countered. "Let me pay for one of them, at least. The one for my friend", he tried, knowing very well this kind of proposal always ended up rejected, and things were simply gifted to him. "She wouldn't like me to take advantage of your kindness".

"You must be talking of Mrs. Granger, then", Florean chuckled. "She's come here many times since her return and not once she allowed me to offer her what she ordered", he mused.

" _Hermione is like that_ ", he nodded. " _So, do we have an agreement_? Can I pay for the cake I'll bring to her?"

"If you really wish to do so", the older man surrendered, raising his hand against his chest. Then he moved to the cash register, where he quickly pressed a couple of buttons before handing him his receipt. " _That would be four Sickles and fifteen Knuts_ ".

As Harry put away the paper in a pocket of his jacket, the pastel-blue door behind the counter opened, revealing a middle-aged blonde woman wearing the Parlour's female uniform: it consisted of a white pencil skirt with two pastel-blue vertical stripes on one side that went down almost to the knees, and of a polo-shirt of the same colour of the stripes (and most of the furniture in the shop).

It would have probably looked very flattering on a younger woman.

"The Summer Emotions", she announced with a fake smile, handing two carefully wrapped boxes to him. " _Enjoy_ ", she added, but it sounded more like an invitation to choke himself on it rather than a positive wish.

For some odd reason she looked weirdly familiar and also exceptionally _old_ ; like she was someone he'd met a younger version of.

Shrugging the ludicrous thoughts away, Harry grabbed the two packages. "Thank you", he muttered, stiffly.

The-Boy-Who-Lived turned his head back on the Parlour's owner, who was finishing the job he'd been doing when Harry had first got into the shop.

Completing an intricated pattern of white icing on top of some chocolate eclairs, Florean put them on a small, gold paper-tray which he then carefully placed inside a see-through plastic sheet.

Wrapping the whole thing with a gold silky bow, he then gave it to Harry.

"Those are for Mrs. Granger", he explained. "They're her favourites".

"Thank you, Florean", Harry said, ready to take his leave. "I'm sure she will appreciate them a lot. As I do appreciate the cake, since you just provided me my dinner", he concluded. "I'll see you next time".

"Until next time, _Mr. Potter_ ", Florean greeted him, waving his hand.

The door was almost closed when he heard the woman speaking again with her obnoxious tone. " _That was_ _Harry Potter_? _I expected more_ ".

Harry stiffed down a giggle as he readied himself to dis-apparate at the edges of the ambiguous Victoria Street Hermione lived in.

Finally, he was about to get some answers out of his friend.

And to share some _Summer Emotion_ with her, too, which was nice considering he'd been missing Hermione for five _fucking_ years.

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Victoria Street n.23 : the Penthouse – London, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 08:15 a.m )_**

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Hermione woke up as her doorbell started ringing, echoing in every corner of her apartment – like she'd _unfortunately_ charmed it to do.

Opening up her blue eyes with a low growl, she threw her sheets on one side, contemplating the chaotic state of her bedroom before raising from her bed and started looking for her slippers.

The witch was halfway on her way to the door when she realized, cursing under her breath the violent awakening, that she was wearing only the t-shirt she'd used as her pyjamas.

Forced to return to her bedroom, she opted for a pair of comfortable joggers, grabbing an hair-tie as she passed by her vanity.

She tied up her hair in a low ponytail on her way back to the door, and flinched slightly on her spot when she spotted Harry's face once she opened the door.

" _Good morning?_ ", she exhaled.

Hermione had completely forgotten about their scheduled breakfast up until now, and it made her feel like she was the _shittiest_ of friends.

"Do you _ever_ sleep?", she asked, recovering from the surprise.

 _There was no need for Harry to_ know _she was a shitty friend, right?_

"Every once in a while", Harry replied, wiggling his brows and glancing down at the packages in his hands. "May I come in?"

"Of course you can", she invited him, stepping back to give him enough room to enter. "I'll do some coffee", she announced, prompting him to follow her to the kitchen.

She gestured for him to drop the food on the island counter, where they would have taken their seats, and quickly pressed the right buttons on her coffee-machine.

It took her barely a minute to have two cups of hot coffee in her hands.

Hermione joined her friend on the bar-stool next to his, handing one of the cups to him, and noticed him eyeing suspiciously the mint and white striped pattern before bringing it to his lips and drinking it in a single sip.

"I couldn't possibly function any longer without some coffee", Harry confessed as soon as he was done. "I'm coming from the night-shift at the DMLE".

"Did anything interesting happen?", Hermione inquired, trying to look casual as she fished for information. The witch was curious to know what the Aurors had discovered about the attack at Malfoy Manor. There were many questions she would have liked to ask Harry, but she tried to keep it neutral. "Chasing dark wizards as per usual?"

" _Dull as fuck_ ", Harry muttered back, starting to open the envelope on the table. "A bar fight in Knockturn Alley and that was pretty much all", he added, exposing two identical boxes along with a smaller package.

She spotted her favourite Fortescue's pastries through the plastic clear sheet covering them and raised an eyebrow at him. "How did you know?"

"They're from Florean", Harry said, opening one of the boxes and revealing a yellow cake that looked absolutely delicious. It was elegantly tapped with orange glace and little butterflies made of sugar were sitting on top of the writing " _Summer Emotion_ ". "But first, you have to try this cake".

"I see", she conceded, eyeing the food as she internally cursed for the missed opportunity: the wizard had closed the topic before she could even ask her first question. "It looks very good".

"It tastes even better", he promised. "Would you pass me a knife, please?"

"Sure", Hermione nodded, standing up and reaching behind the counter to open the drawer that contained all her cutlery. She picked up her favourite slicer, handing it to the man. "There you go".

"Thank you", he said, slicing down two generous portions of the cake. "So, how are you feeling today?", Harry asked, placing them on top of two napkins and pushing one in her direction.

The witch grabbed it with her right hand and took a small bite before having quite an explicit reaction to its _gorgeous_ taste: moaning loudly, she raised her eyes to the ceiling and finished the entire piece in two giant bites, then took the slicer Harry had just put down and cut herself another slice. "This is amazing", she complimented the cake.

"It's like _heaven_ , but for your mouth", Harry nodded, echoing her gestures and helping himself with a second round. "So, how are you _today_?", he asked, in a very casual tone that immediately sounded fake to her.

" _Living and breathing_ ", she teased. "I'm still a little _shaken_ , I suppose, but I'm doing far better than two days ago".

She didn't really _want_ to talk about what had happened with the Grangers and her escape to the other side of the globe, but _logically speaking_ her dark-haired friend was her best option: for starters, he'd _met_ her muggle parents _before_ the whole _Obliviate_ situation, and _he wasn't Ron_ , which meant he was an _actual_ candidate for discussing her personal feelings; on top of that, talking with Harry had always come surprisingly easy to her, which she appreciated, considering that too often she found herself involved in conversations she really didn't think were worth having.

"I still can't believe they acted the way they did", Harry carefully approached the subject, and she was grateful for it. "And why you didn't come back as soon as they closed their door in your face".

Hermione didn't know it either, if she had to be honest: she'd told herself she'd remained in Australia because William and Jane were still there, at least for the first year she'd spent in Sydney, but she'd never tried to approached the couple after they'd cast her away; then she'd convinced herself the life she was building for herself was worth staying, besides the Australian cultural panorama was much more interesting than the one of a country just recovering from a war where intellectual oppression and censorship had been largely abused weapons; at last, Pansy had come into her life, but even when her best friend had decided to return to their motherland Hermione had remained where she was for an additional year.

She had missed home for years, but now she had another and she couldn't decide which place mattered the most to her.

"I needed to _start over_ , Harry", she admitted after a while, finishing her cup of coffee. "I couldn't _hurt_ here, not when everybody else was doing the same and for far more tragic reasons".

" _I understand-_ ", Harry started, as if the words were blocked on the tip of his tongue. "But _I don't agree_. _Yes_ , the first few months were awful, but we all got our shit together because we were there for each other", he said, sending her a knowingly glance. "No surprise you're still dealing with yours. Besides, _pain is just pain_ , no matter who feels it or why. We would have helped you. _I_ would have helped you".

"I would say I'm finally dealing with some of it, but I'm afraid other things have _expired_ by now", she countered, trying not to get too emotional as she thought about the many things she wished she could just _do-over_ in her life. "I hope _our friendship_ hasn't", she added on a whim. "I know I've been the _worst_ friend _ever_ for the past five years, but I still hope they won't erase the seven we shared before that. I can't imagine being in London and _not_ hang out with you".

"That wouldn't be possible even if I wanted it to happen, which I _don't_. Pansy cares a lot about you. She would never stand for _that_ ", Harry smirked. "And I'm afraid you classified as the _best_ friend _ever_ when you stood by my side when _no one else_ did".

She didn't know which event he was referring to exactly, because unfortunately there had been more than one occasion in which she'd been the only person not to turn her back on him, but she was still happy he'd brought it up. It felt extremely nice to hear him saying it.

"I care a lot about Pansy, too", she replied, honestly. "I _love_ her, really. _Congratulations_ for your engagement, by the way. I knew she'd promised you not to tell anyone, but I kind of find out on my own".

Hermione opened her arms, hoping he understood she was trying to offer him an olive branch.

Luckily, he did. Harry covered the distance between them and engulfed her in a tight hug. "I missed you so much", he whispered on her ear, and by the way his tone was uneven Hermione wondered if he was about to cry.

She definitely was. But they were happy tears. "I missed you, too", she confessed.

They'd already had a similar conversation not long after the Hogwarts Reunion, but this time the words sounded more consciously spoken and heart-felt.

" _So, you're fine with me asking Pansy's hand?_ ", he inquired after pulling away, raising a defiant brow at his friend.

Hermione stood still for a second, wondering the nature of his question: she hadn't done or said anything to justify it.

She thought it was too early in their relationship to take such a big step, yes, but she hadn't voiced her opinion on that particular subject with anybody.

Not with Pansy, and _certainly_ not with Harry.

"Ari tried to turn us against each didn't succeed, _obviously"_ , Harry supplied.

Hermione cringed. _Screwed up by one of her toys_. "I'm sorry to hear that", she murmured, apologetically. "I'm still working to the way she relates to some of the more intense human experiences. Having no personal feelings, she kind of likes to think she's _omniscient_. Again, I'm sorry she bothered you".

"She wasn't _that_ bad", he replied, half-heartedly. "Well, _she was_. The most _obnoxious_ toddler I've ever met, and I've grown up with _Dudley_ …", Harry trailed off. "Anyway, that wasn't my point. The way she seemed so keen on riling us up made me think that perhaps she had seen something in _your_ memories that was suggesting her _you_ thought we aren't a good match, and I was wondering what that could be".

Hermione was slightly taken aback by the upfront guess her friend had just made, but then she remembered who she was talking with: _The Chosen One, Mr. First You Act And Then You Think._

"I don't think you and Pansy are a _bad match_ ", she promptly reassured him. "You two are some of my favourite people in the world and if you want to spend the rest of your life making each other happy, then I'm very happy for both of you, Harry. But I know how much Pansy has been hurt before, and I know that you, too, haven't had the easiest life. You've been dating for less than a year and you've proposed to her a month ago. From where I stand, this could end up really badly and really quickly".

 _And it would put me in the worst position ever_ , but she didn't said that.

"Trust me, I know we've been going really fast", Harry started, a peaceful smile on his lips as he shared his thoughts on the matter. "But I also know that I spent the past four years of my life thinking marriage was something I was at some point _supposed_ to do, not something I _desired_ for myself. With Pansy is different, I'm the happiest I've ever been in my life. I want to wake up next to her for the rest of it".

"That's lovely", said Hermione, a little moved by his words. "I hope you'll accomplish that, Harry. If someone deserves to be happy, that's _you_ ", she concluded.

At that point they both seemed to know they needed a change of subject before they hugged each other again and started crying like teenagers, perhaps even get _matching tattoos_ , so she was very glad when the Boy-Who-Lived raised from his seat and reached the coffee-machine, copying her gestures from before.

" _Everyone_ deserves to be happy, Hermione", he countered her words, toying with the small capsule in his hand as he inserted it into the device and pressed the right button after checking there was enough water in it. "We fought a _war_ to make sure that could happen".

"Yeah, well, things didn't go exactly the way we planned them", Hermione shrugged, unsure if she was ready to get herself into another political discussion with the man.

Despite its many mistakes, the man still stood by the Ministry's side and what it represented, while her opinion on the matter was completely different: everything was still the way it was when she'd first entered the wizarding world, what was changed were merely the people holding the power.

It was _nauseating_.

"They could have been worse", Harry reminded her, his eyes falling instinctively on her right forearm, where Bellatrix's scar was hidden behind the concealment charm she almost permanently kept on it.

Hermione's hand quickly jolted to that section of her skin, covering it even more as her mind swiftly travelled back down memory lane to _delight_ her with memories of the day she'd been _tortured_.

She couldn't decide if she remembered more vividly the woman's crazy, barking laugh or how surprisingly hot her blood had felt when it had started spilling from the letters of the word carved on her skin.

 _Mudblood_.

It sounded like a stupid _joke_ right now.

"You don't have to tell _me_ ", the brunette countered, glancing at him. "But I do have _standards_ when it comes to governments, and the current one is just as _shady_ as the two that preceded it".

"You know Kingsley does his best-", Harry started, but she waved him off.

"Kingsley is _one man_ ", Hermione observed, calmly. "He's hardly the one who takes the shots in there, if we consider the laws approved in the past five years. Some of them are downright _terrific_ ".

"He does what he can", Harry insisted. "And both the Wizengamot and the DMLE are full of young people. You just need to give it some time".

"Perhaps I'm not patient enough", she shrugged. "I'll ask you one question and then we can drink our last coffee before I get ready for my day and you go get some rest. Your eye-bags are _waving_ at me".

"Night-shift and no sleep", he rolled his eyes. "Go on with your question".

"What's the difference between a _Pureblood_ that needs to register himself and get a permission to marry another and a _Muggleborn_ that was put under trial by Umbridge for owning a wand?", Hermione asked, and she didn't miss the guilty look in Harry's eyes.

"There is _none_ , I suppose", he admitted, quietly. "But _registering_ yourself is not the same as the Wizengamot putting you into Azkaban to rot for the rest of your life, is it?"

" _You know what my point is_ ", she replied. "It's not fair and no one has done something to stop it".

"Perhaps now that you're here you can find a way to right some wrongs", he suggested, taking a generous sip of his coffee.

"Oh, trust me, Harry", Hermione said. "I'd _love_ to do that".

* * *

 ** _( Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 10:30 a.m. )_**

* * *

Draco Malfoy went through his _morning routine_ with a grin that was very unlikely, considering his usual _let-me-sleep-all-day_ attitude.

He didn't enjoy an early rise, Salazar knew he'd struggled all the way through his seven years at Hogwarts to get up in time and have breakfast, but today he had a meeting he was looking forward to.

Today he'd overslept more than usual, still drained out of energies from his improvised trip to Australia, and when he entered his daughter's room to wake her up, Adhara was nowhere to be seen.

Both his parents usually rose from their beds very early in the morning, and he wasn't surprised when he found them in the _informal_ dining room, their granddaughter sitting between them.

" _Rise and shine_ , Draco", Narcissa greeted him with a warm smile. "Did you have a good night's sleep?"

"He definitely slept like a _rock_ ", remarked Lucius, pouring more _Pumpkin-Juice_ in her little pink goblet.

The toddler had her own set of bright-coloured cutlery, which she loved very much, and no matter how much the man glowered at it, it was on the table for their every meal.

" _Daddy_!", called Adhara from her baby's chair. That was pink, too.

"Good morning, _princess_ ", he said to her, smiling softly, and placing a kiss on the top of head. "Good morning, mother", he added, doing the same with Narcissa. " _Father_ ", he then called, way more coldly.

Draco hastily took a seat, helping himself with some eggs and a sausage, completely ignoring the pancakes Adhara and Narcissa had chosen for themselves, and a giant cup of hot coffee.

"My sleep was fine", he answered his mother's earlier question before he started eating his food. "How was yours?"

"Excellent. The _pillow spray_ Pansy brought me from Australia did miracles. Now I feel ashamed for waiting so long before giving it a chance", she chatted, stirring the sugar in her tea. "Your father liked it, too", she added as an afterthought, obviously trying to involve her husband in their conversation.

"Tsk", Lucius clicked his tongue.

His father was clearly mad at him, but instead of having him scared like when he'd been a teenager, Draco felt oddly smug.

He _loved_ to rile his old man up, and especially since he hadn't forgiven him ( _yet_ ): Draco couldn't help it, no matter how much the wizard behaved, he still expected him to turn back into his old self.

As much as he still loved his father despite _everything_ he'd done, he found himself unable to trust him, and always on edge, as he was constantly afraid their final, inevitable confrontation was about to happen.

He had been extremely serious when telling his friends that he was ready to cut all ties with him in case he didn't prove he was really a changed man.

"I'm sure Pansy will be delighted to hear you liked her present", Draco reassured his mother.

"Even if it took me more than a year to use it?", she countered, looking seriously concerned about Pansy being offended by her action. Then she shook her head, as if she wanted to get rid of the sentiment and crossed her hands around her fuming cup of tea, smiling knowingly at his son. "Did you manage to talk to Hermione?"

Draco was slightly taken aback by his mother's perceptiveness: yesterday he'd only mentioned he had to urgently meet with his friends, careful not to say anything about whom they were or what they needed, and when he'd finally returned for supper he'd been extremely vague.

He could see how much Lucius was bothered by his lack of explanations, as well as he was sure Narcissa's more gentle approach was meant to pull the old _good-cop-bad-cop_ trick on him.

How his mother had figured out Hermione's involvement in the events, though, he couldn't possibly say. "I'm afraid not", he replied, and it was only half a lie. He had spent time with her the day before, but the right occasion to address the events of a couple nights ago never showed up. "I'll see her at lunch, though", Draco added, trying to conceal the smile that was spontaneously appearing on his lips. "I'm dying to discuss this attack, which is why I was thinking I should speak with Potter, too. See what the Aurors think of it, and what measures they suggest we take to defend ourselves".

Lucius grimaced. "Personally, I don't think they'll be very _invested_ in our protection", he scolded his son. "It's not like we hold any leverage over the Ministry anymore".

"Then I'm glad the _DMLE_ grants people justice basing its decisions on the law, rather than a wizard's personal connections", Draco countered, raising a sceptical brow at his father. "And even if _they_ didn't care-", he continued, tilting his head on the side so that he could look at him in the grey eyes that were a perfect mirror of his. "I do. Adhara and mother's protection are my _top_ priority right now. As the only wizard in this house that actually possesses a wand", he remarked with _no mercy_ , "It is my _duty_ to sort is out".

His father was about to reply, but his wife cut him off, clearing her voice to obtain the attention of the men in his life. "I think speaking with _Harry_ is a _wonderful_ idea, dear", Narcissa said, soothingly. "And it's been a long time since he last came over for dinner-", she trailed off, and by the way her expression completely lit up, he knew she was thrilled to have the occasion of organizing a small social gathering, no matter how small or domestic it was.

Draco sighed a breath of relief, thinking the interrogation was finally over, when Lucius returned to the conversation with the only subject he didn't wish to discuss with his parents.

"Be sure to take Mrs. Nott somewhere worth her _status_ ", he recommended. "Our public image is shattered enough as it is", Lucius added, looking pensive.

"She'll probably be the one to pick up a place", Draco cut him off before he could share any more of his _bullshit_. "And personally, I'm fine with _muggle_ fish and chips", he added, thoroughly enjoying the queasy expression on his old man's face. "Now that you reminded of my appointment, however, I should probably get ready for it, father. If you'll excuse me", he said, dragging his chair on the floor as he pulled himself away from the table.

He returned to where Adhara was sitting, completely focused by her strawberry cake.

The toddler tilted her head up when she felt Draco's hand gently brushing her hair. " _You leavin'_ , _Daddy_?", she pouted.

"That I am, unfortunately", he replied. "But I'll be back after lunch and we'll spend the whole day out, I promise. Besides, _grandma 'Cissa_ needs your help with her shopping, _princess_ , and you have _far more taste_ than I do".

Like every Malfoy, by birth-right or marriage, who ever existed, four years old Adhara loved receiving compliments very much.

Draco knew how boring living in a big old manor could be, and he tried to take her out, exploring both the wizarding and the muggle as much as he could.

His daughter really enjoyed their little adventures, and so did he.

The blond was looking forward to their afternoon together. "I'll see you later", he greeted her, lowering his head to place a kiss on both her cheeks.

"Be sure to be there in time", Narcissa recommended as he approached her to do the same. " _A gentleman is never late_ ", she reminded him of one of the rules written in the child's book she used to read to him when he was Adhara's age.

It was titled _Manners 0 to 10_ , and he still remembered every word of the ten rules that composed it. It was the one who'd stuck the most with him, but maybe that was because many of the remaining nine were rather _questionable_ in the post-Voldemort era. _Antiquated_ , at best.

"A gentleman is never late", he repeated, smiling at her.

"Father", Draco said with a little bow of his head, half smirking and half grimacing, then set out on his way to the door after smiling one last time at his daughter, who beamed back at him.

Walking up the main stairs and to his room, Draco extracted his telephone from the pocket of his trousers, searching for his chat with Hermione.

 _What time should I pick you up?_ – he wrote.

 _I can be ready in twenty minutes_ – she replied.

Gaping at the clock on the upper part of his display, he held back a scowl.

Luckily, all Draco had to do before leaving Malfoy Manor was changing his clothes.

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Pankhurst Lane n. 4: The Brimstone Violin – London, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 12:30 a.m. )_**

* * *

The pair ended up having lunch somewhere Hermione had picked out, just like Draco had told his mother earlier that morning.

 _The Brimstone Violin_ was a lovely experimental restaurant the wizard was thoroughly enjoying: the staff was warm and welcoming, but not prying or overwhelming; the food was tasty and well-presented, perfect for a date lunch for people who didn't like going over the top.

 _It would please even Gino_ , thought Draco as his grey eyes scanned their surroundings, and the corners of his lips slightly quirked up.

He'd been happier than he'd anticipated to re-unite with his mentor in occasion of his first date with Granger: unlike Lucius, Remigio Galbani had been the supportive and affectionate kind of role-model, and now that his father was back in his life he couldn't help but constantly compare the two.

It went without saying that the Italian knew many things about parenthood he could have taught to the Malfoy patriarch, and that despite him having no children of his own.

Perhaps it was time he brought his mother out for dinner at _Villa Gino_ 's once more, Salazar knew the woman would have appreciated some time out of the oppressive Manor, no matter how many times she'd redecorated the place.

No doubt Lucius was going to pass on the invitation to join them, if he ever got one.

The wizard realized he was zooning out when Hermione cleared her throat, smiling at him with her red-painted lips. " _Planet Earth to Draco Malfoy?_ "

" _I- Umh_ , _I'm sorry_ , I was lost in my thoughts", he said, apologetically.

" _Yeah_ , I noticed that by myself", she replied, her voice surprisingly calm.

He'd met women who could take it rather personally if you didn't listen to them for even three seconds, and no matter how much they talked, so he was a little taken aback when she didn't fuss over it and moved on to the next subject.

" _So, what do you think of this place?_ ", the witch asked, eyeing him from behind her glass of sparkling Chardonnay. "Any comments on the _furniture_ , or, I don't know, the _service. I mean_ , _objectively_ speaking".

Draco and Hermione had been assigned to a table he knew for a fact it was going to be a _bestseller_ : positioned in one corner of the dining room, it was next to the wall-height windows, which provided them a glimpse of the narrow street on whose ground the restaurant was standing.

Reordering his ideas, Draco opted for complete honesty. "The building is nice, and it fits with the general look of the venue. The menu had a nice selection, but some things I'm not quite sure I'd personally ever try. Overall, I think this place has everything it needs to be a success", he mused, then threw another glance around him. The one they were sitting at was the only table occupied in the entire restaurant. "Perhaps they should work on their advertisement a little more", he added, smirking. "It looks like _nobody and their mothers_ know about this place".

"Well, maybe it's because it's not officially open, _yet_ ", Hermione replied, smirking back. " _We_ still have a couple of things to fix, like finalizing deals with the suppliers and getting the editor to finish the logo-"

" _We_? Do you own it?" Draco couldn't believe what he was hearing, though it made a lot of sense, considering how careful the entire staff had been when approaching them, and especially _her_. "I could have seen it coming, but I'm afraid I didn't", he joked, trying to hide his astonishment.

He knew she possessed what many would call an _empire_ , but he'd never pictured her for the kind of millionaire who invests her money in the hospitality or gastronomic business: the private island hadn't been much of a surprise, but a _restaurant_? It opened the door for every other possibility.

 _Like, did she have her own Quidditch team, too?_

" _The Brimstone Violin_ it's not exactly _mine_ , Draco", the witch answered. "But I do possess the building and the legal licenses that allow this place to exist, as well as a share of its property", she clarified, then smiled sheepishly at him. " _Blaise_ is the major investor, though".

His mind was suddenly flooded with bits and pieces from a conversation he'd had with Zabini a couple of nights before, when he'd warned his friends about the dangers of getting into business with people whose identity was uncertain.

Hermione had been there, too, when they'd discussed the topic, and he could bet his _family jewels_ she had probably laughed her _ass_ off while listening to their conspiracy theories. "Does he know that?", he asked, instinctively, and by the way the corners of her lips quirked up, he was sure of what her answer was going to be.

"Not _yet_ ", she admitted, now toying with her purse to grab her wallet from it. Draco opened his mouth to protest, but she cut him off. "Don't even think about it. I let you pay at your friend's place, you let me pay at my own restaurant. _Pretty please_?", she added with the cutest little pout.

He sat silent as the waitress, Georgina, clutched her credit card and swiped it in the receiver in her hand; then she gave the device to Hermione, who typed her code and proceeded with the payment. From the bewildered smile on her face, the young girl had probably received a nice tip.

"Would you like anything else?", she prompted, obsequiously. "Another glass of wine, perhaps? It's on the house".

"Two coffees to take away would be great", Hermione said, smiling back at the waitress. "Thank you", she added as the other turned on her heels to deliver the order.

The brunette started to get ready to leave, putting her phone back into her purse and raising from her seat before he could get up and help her out like his education suggested him to do.

"Are we in a rush?", he asked without thinking about it twice.

Hermione, who was about to retrieve her coat from the hostess who was standing not far from the table, stopped abruptly. "Not at all", she reassured him, as if we she knew exactly what was going on in his mind. _We still haven't talked about what happened the other night at the Manor_. "There's something I'd like to show you, Malfoy".

Then the witch winked at him and walked away from the table.

Grabbing his own mobile phone and putting it in the back pocket of his black jeans, Draco sat up and followed her to the desk at the entrance, where Granger was waiting for him, already in her camel coat, two cups very similar to muggle Starbucks in her hands.

"The paper is enchanted to keep it extra hot", she informed him, handing one to the blond. "Shall we?", she added, eyeing the glass door behind them.

Talking no further, the pair left the restaurant, finding themselves in the quiet Pankhurst Lane once again: the shops were all oddly closed, but, considering it was lunch-time, Draco didn't pay too much attention to it.

They walked the street heading to the west, until it crossed with another, whose sign said _Tabei Road_ , and that's when the man finally recognized his whereabouts.

To this very moment he'd been convinced he was in a part of London he'd simply never visited before – which was extremely possible, considering _size actually mattered_ when talking of this particular city –, but now reality dawned on him all at once.

Walking side by side, they went south and in a couple of minutes they were standing at the beginning of _Victoria Street_. "Isn't this where you live?", he asked. The general architecture of the buildings and the name of the venue was the same, besides he was acquainted with the _real_ Victoria Street, the one that was in muggle tourist-guides, but he wanted to be sure.

"Took you long enough", she replied, smiling knowingly. "My house is the last one on this road, but you all usually apparate near the gates of _Breedlove Park_ , _so_ … Don't let yourself down too much for not figuring it out sooner. It's still a week after _Pansy_ did, and she knows me better than I do for most of the time".

Draco was half-listening, too focused on scanning his surroundings: many things had changed since the last time he'd been there – one or two days before, it depended on whether he considered the English or the Australian time-zone –, and there were no doubts now that the one Hermione Granger lived in was a wizarding neighbourhood.

Strangely enough, one no wizard nor witch in Great Britain had ever heard anything about.

"The _river_ wasn't there two days ago", he commented, neutrally.

The blond watched as Hermione took a long sip from her coffee, leaving a deep red stain on the border of the cup before replying. "I wasn't really sure I could pull it off until last minute", she admitted, looking still seriously concerned with the issue. "But luckily I was able to make enough room for it. _Hypatia River_ is the best thing in the entire _WizVille_ , if you ask me. Besides, it improved the view from the south windows of the penthouse".

"You built a _fucking_ river just to improve your view?", Draco asked, bewildered. " _Salazar,_ you're _rich_ ", he added, but then felt immediately _stupid_.

The woman was _Head_ and main shareholder of the most profiting wizarding company that ever existed, and she possessed her own _island_ – with mountains, cliffs, a beautiful beach and even a volcano –, of course she had to be _loaded_.

Also, he knew that _for a fact_ , as he'd been there when she'd signed over to her brother a part of her shares of MagiTech, and he'd helped Theo managing them since then, which contributed immensely to how _dumb_ the Malfoy heir was really feeling.

Maybe it was because she just seemed so incredibly _at ease_ no matter what the circumstance happened to be: a fancy party at her mean aunt's house, a wild night out with her friends, and even during a violent Quidditch match, while pulling off an almost impossible _Porskoff Ploy_ , covered in sweat and dirt, not to mention on a _battlefield_.

"Don't be silly, Draco", Hermione lectured, scrutinizing him from behind her long, dark lashes as if it was possible for her to read his mind. "I wouldn't build a river just to improve the view from my home, obviously. It _also_ raises its value just in case I ever decide to sell it".

The duo was now entering a circular area, in the middle of which flowed the Hypatia River they were just talking about; it was possible to reach the other side of _Wollstonecraft Square_ – that the name carved on the iron plaque fixed on the stone pavement – by crossing over one of the twin black bridges that delimited the west and east corners of it.

The wizard followed her silently as she approached the one on their right, reading the badge on one of the supporting pillars twice while absentmindedly setting one foot and then the other on it.

There was something deeply alluring about the water peacefully running below him: it had a gold reflex to it, and Draco felt a sudden pull towards it.

Both the railing and the wooden " _Bathing is forbidden_!" sign stopped him from jumping right into it, and that's when he noticed something was amiss: _he was alone on the iron bridge_.

Draco turned back on his heels and his eyes met Hermione's face once again: the woman was standing at the very beginning of the platform, but the smirk on her face had been replaced by a joyous smile.

Clearing her throat, the brunette took the necessary steps to join him, stopping only when she was one touch away. " _I'd say congratulations are in order here, Mr. Malfoy_ ", she said, beaming. "You'll go down in history as the first man to ever walk across _Calypso Bridge_ ".

Her voice was sweet and the look on her face one he could have _died_ for, but he stiffened and glanced back at the water instead of pulling her in his arms and kissing her senseless. "I'm afraid we both know _what_ I'll go down in history for, Hermione", he admitted, quietly. "Thank you for this _one_ nice thing among the list of my endless mistakes".

From the corner of his eye he watched as her smile faltered a little, but she shook her head and placed one of her small hands on his shoulder. "It was the least I could do", she replied, then replaced her hand with her head as she snuggled on his side, crossing one arm under his and pulling him closer. " _Thank you for coming after me the other day, Malfoy_ ", she added after a while, using a softer tone as she spoke. "That makes it another nice thing, for a total of minimum two nice things _I_ will remember you for".

He didn't know precisely _how_ she did it, but Hermione Granger seemed capable of knowing exactly what to say in every fucking occasion.

She cheered Draco up like very few selected people could, and many times on a _deeper_ level, even.

As a twenty-three years old wizard, he wasn't disillusioned enough not to know the tug in his chest was what _falling in love_ – with all the complications it implied – felt like.

As a twenty-three years old man with many regrets, he wasn't bitter enough not to embrace it.

So he just grabbed her beautiful face on one side and gently tilted her head up, then kissed her on the mouth twice: the first time very lightly, brushing his lips against the woman's, while the second Draco surrounded both sides of her neck with his hands and simply devoured her mouth as he tried to get as close as it was physically possible to the dazzling creature in his arms.

He felt like _spiritually_ she was miles ahead of him, but he was more than willing to cover the distance.

"It felt like the only thing to do", he admitted, rather seriously, after he pulled away from the kiss, hoping she'd get the reference, so he wouldn't be forced to further extend his embarrassment by providing a recap. "So, _you're welcome_ ", he added.

Hermione smiled at him once more, apparently not bothered by the fact he'd moved her lipstick around the contours of her mouth quite a bit – or, more likely, still oblivious to it. "How much of your time is left for me to take? There's more where the _magic river_ came from".

" _I'm sorry, the what?_ ", Draco spluttered. Then, talking to himself: "Well, _of course_ it would be a magic river as apparently it has no source nor mouth and its waters glimmer with gold, Draco, _you dumbass idiot_ ".

When the blond finally realized he'd said the words out loud, Hermione gave him some time to recollect himself before speaking again. "The river is the only thing that's made _completely_ out of magic in here, that's why I like it so much", she confessed, brushing a lonely strain of hair that had escaped from her low ponytail and hiding it on the back of her ear. "The glimmer is simply my magic as it works to keep things going".

"I see", he muttered, and the question that followed came out spontaneously. "Why bothering yourself so much for the view of a house you could eventually sell?"

"First of all, you never know where life will lead you", the witch trailed off, grabbing a hold of his hand as she urged him to follow her and finally reach the other side of the bridge. "And like I said, I didn't do it only for my personal enjoinment of the picture it gives. It raises the value of the entire _WizVille_ complex, which, and I probably should have mentioned this before, it's an _investment_ where I put a lot of my personal money. We actually passed by _MagiTech_ 's brand new, English headquarters on our way out of the restaurant", she informed him.

"Blaise will be positively _thrilled_ to know he's in business with you", said Draco. "Now that I know about it, _I_ wish I had put my money into it. And I was the one who told him _not_ to", he joked, squeezing slightly the hand he was still holding.

" _You still can_ ", Hermione prompted, blushing. "I mean, I know from Theo that you've been wanting to move from the Manor for some time now, and there are a lot of houses and apartments that aren't on sale, _yet-_ ".

"You would want me as your neighbour?", he asked, interrupting her. "I should warn you that I attract a lot of bad press".

" _Nonsense_. Besides, bad press is still, well, _press_. And I wouldn't have to _pay_ for it", she said, smirking, but then her expression softened as she looked up at him once again. "There was something else I wanted to share with you, actually".

"Go ahead, then. I promise I won't bite", he teased, now curious to hear what she was talking about.

"We're working to open up some sort of magical kindergarten. Hopefully, everything will be ready for the beginning of the next scholastic year", Hermione announced. "I think a _pre-school_ would largely improve the children's learning experience once they attend Hogwarts, and they'd also be already acquainted with their peers, which wouldn't be half-bad, especially for _Muggleborns_ ".

Despite her heritage had turned out to be impressive and her blood, according to the _old standards_ , was now worth millions as a bride, the witch still seemed deeply connected with the roots she'd considered her own for half of her life, and at heart she was still the same heart-of-gold, caring girl he'd always imagined her to be.

"That's an amazing idea", Draco complimented her, grinning. "I'd like to see this place, actually, if that's possible. _I still have a good_ -", he trailed off, lowering his grey eyes to look at the watch on his wrist. " _Fifteen minutes_ ", he added with a frown.

"It'll be enough, there's not much to see for now", she reassured him. "I mean, the outside has been finished and the gardens are positively lovely, but we still haven't agreed on the furniture. But since we're already here, let me at least show you Pansy's shop".

The woman pointed her hand at the number eight of the road they were currently walking on, one called _Lovelace Avenue_ , and right in front of his eyes the idea Pansy had been talking about over and over again in the past year finally materialized: _Obsidian Couture_ occupied the first floor of an elegant white building and everything, from the flowers which decorated the entrance to the clothing exposed in the two shop windows, looked extremely well-crafted, polished and expensive.

It had the name Pansy Parkinson written all over it in invisible ink.

The pair continued their stroll as they shared their opinions on their common friend's new business venture, stopping only as they approached civic number three on the same _Tabei Road_ they'd walked on top of while still on the other side of the river.

The " _Athena Foundation for Gifted Children_ ", that the name on the white board placed next to the closed gate, consisted of several little coloured buildings that surrounded a massive, imponent, white one.

Its gardens where just as gorgeous as she'd described them to be, and extending his neck a little, Draco managed to take a peek at the impressive playground on the right side of the perimeter.

For someone who didn't have children, Hermione Granger surely knew how to keep them entertained and taken care of.

"I can't find a single reason why a parent wouldn't want to send their children here", he offered, sincerely. "Home-schooling was frowned upon even in _our_ days. I'd say we're looking at your brand new mine of gold".

His mind travelled back to that time in Hogwarts when she'd called him out on being a _biased little shit_ and mocked him for having been tutored privately, stating it was no surprise his vision of the world was so _partial_ ; they were twelve back then, and even if it eventually had taken him several more years to understand what exactly she was saying, it had been one of the reasons why he'd struggled so deeply with his admiration for her for their remaining years in the castle – admiration he'd expressed, obviously, by treating her like she was dirt under his shoes.

It still made him deeply upset to think what a despiscable human-being he'd been in his youth.

 _A biased little shit,_ indeed.

"It's not about the money. Not this time", Hermione countered, eyeing the white building with a pensive look on her face. "I won't let another young wizard or witch live in a _cupboard under the stairs_ , not when I have the means to take care of them".

"Potter's uncles were awful to him", Draco noted, picking up the reference. Not that he would ever admit that, but he'd almost cried as he'd learned about The-Boy-Who-Lived's childhood while reading his autobiography. "Someone else would have probably turned out really bad".

"Not Harry", she stated, simply. "He's too good for his _own_ good".

"I can't believe I'm really saying this, but I'm glad Pansy ended up with him", he offered. "At least I know he'll never hurt her on purpose, and everyone can see how much he cares about her. She _needs_ that".

" _Don't we all?_ ", Hermione asked in a soft voice, but before he could come up with anything resembling a witty remark – or press her on the subject to gather some information about where he was exactly standing with the witch – she'd already shrugged the discussion away and turned to face him with a bright smile. "I think I know how to use up our last – she stopped, checking the time on the display of her phone, then putting it back into the left pocket of her coat – _seven minutes_. If you'll please follow me, Malfoy, I'll happily introduce you to the best ice-cream in the entire wizarding world".

Before Draco could agree to her idea, his mind already occupied in deciding what flavour he should bring back home with him for his daughter, a _Jack Russel Terrier_ in Patronus form ran towards them and jolted in the air, just a couple inches away from the pair, as Weasley's voice filled the silence.

"I'm really sorry to be doing this, 'Mione", Ron's familiar voice apologized. " _Emh_ \- Mrs. Granger, the _Department of Magical Law Enforcement_ officially requires your presence to discuss what occurred the other night at Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire. We suggest you present yourself at the Ministry sooner rather than later, an Auror will be waiting for you in the Atrium".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Here we go! This story is updated and one of my favorite chapters is finally online.  
I really, really hope you guys enjoyed it.

We've officially introduced WizVille more properly (I actually fully designed its map, if everyone's interested you can check it out on my tumblr, under the username godisawitchfic) as well as the main topic of the upcoming update: what's going on in the DMLE? :))

As per usual, I thank you for reading, following, "favoriting" or reviewing my story.  
Your feedback and attention are really appreciated.

Before you leave, please vote on the poll in my bio page to help me decide where Draco and Hermione are going to spend the romantic weekend I have planned for them. For now Venice it's on top, but there are many interesting locations there imho.

Have an amazing week!


	23. NONSTOP

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **23.**

 **NONSTOP**

 **.**

* * *

 ** _( Ministry of Magic, the Atrium,  
_** ** _Whitehall,_** ** _London, England,  
_** ** _September 21th, 2003, around 14:15 p.m. )_**

* * *

Being an Auror wasn't as exciting as _Orientation Day_ had promised it would be, not if you're name held no power, caused no fear and received no recognition.

Most of the work consisted in dealing with bureaucracy and endless reports to fill in, both tasks Magnus Loughty was quite good at, but which left him a little more mentally drained as days passed him by.

He'd entered Auror-training as soon as he'd graduated from Hogwarts – that had happened four years previously to this moment – and he'd obtained the highest grades in his class.

Back in the day he'd been an optimist, a young wizard who believed in concepts such as _meritocracy_ and _justice_ , but four years inside the government had taught him a thing or two: for instance, he'd learned that history has the tendency to repeat itself, and even in the new _Voldemort-free_ era _where_ you came from counted more than _who_ you were.

He came from a small village on the south coast of the Isle of Arran, Scotland, his name wasn't connected with anything or anyone of importance and despite his efforts to prove his worth to his superiors, inside the Department of Magical Law Enforcement nobody ever really acknowledged his merits.

He'd collected every reward that was supposed to grant him at least _two_ promotions, yet he still had to receive his first one.

It wouldn't have bothered him as much if the same treatment had been reserved to all young recruits: many had enrolled in the Department after the second wizarding war, much what Magnus had done, but how was it that some of them had received _preferential treatment_?

Two names among the others popped in his mind: Dean Thomas and Anthony Goldstein.

Their grades were average at best, their performance didn't scream excellence, yet they'd been selected to be a part of Harry Potter's team.

If he was fine with the fact _The Chosen One_ had been given the exclusive position of head of an Auror team at such a young age – the man had defeated Lord Voldemort (twice), after all – Magnus didn't think it was fair that his ginger sidekick had received the same gift by proximity.

When he'd been assigned to Ronald Weasley's team, the wizard had lost whatever _respect_ he had left for the organization he worked for: going to the Ministry almost everyday had become an unbearable nuisance.

He was always assigned to the most tedious tasks, such as researching the archives or manually recording what was said (and confessed) during interrogations, but Magnus Loughty had always been a man of action, and he was growing bitter and bitter with being relegated to the office.

As of right now, the wizard was waiting in the Atrium for yet another witness about the accident occurred at Malfoy Manor a couple of nights before, and he was ever-so-annoyed by his current assignment.

Eyes fixed on the row of lifts, he muttered " _Fucking war-heroes_ " under his breath.

He'd recently developed a very specific dislike for the female member of the Golden trio: as a young Halfblood with limited possibilities, he'd admired the way she'd made the old prejudices tremble with her peculiar intelligence and magical prowess, but now the witch he'd looked up to had just become yet another version of a Pureblood heiress.

In Magnus' opinion, her new-found heritage undermined everything she stood for in the past: in his eyes, the bullying and suffering she'd endured as a teenager meant nothing after she'd sold her soul, embracing her _Death-Eater_ brother and buying for Nott House new privileges that were clearly meant to replace the ones they'd lost in the war.

Or so he'd read on the Scarlet Post, the only newspaper he still bothered reading: it was a weekly publication that was really hard to obtain, not listed in the official Ministry register, but it was worth every Knut of the one Galleon monthly subscription.

They weren't afraid of speaking the truth, of denouncing the sheer hypocrisy which characterized wizarding society.

Finally, one of the lifts opened and a petite female came out of it, followed by a much taller, bulkier masculine frame with platinum blond hair.

"You didn't need to come along", she was whispering half-heartedly to her companion, but from Magnus' perspective the woman was very much glad the man had escorted her to the Ministry.

Auror-training as it was with the post-war reform included the study of body language and an introduction to muggle psychology, and even though he personally wasn't much interested in what to him had about the same validity of Divination – meaning it had _zero to none_ , he'd still applied himself and learned everything his superiors had decided was necessary to pass the exams.

 _Affection_ he found it was much easier than hatred to spot and it took him only one glance at the pair to realize they were smitten with each other.

That, on its own, was even more proof of the fact that Gryffindor's Golden Girl, Hermione Granger, had turned into one of the _bad guys_ : it was _Draco Malfoy_ who'd accompanied her to the Ministry.

"It's not a big deal", the _fucker_ was reassuring her. "Mother can take care of Adhara a little longer while we sort this out".

"Ms. Granger", Magnus drawled in her direction, eager to return to the second level of the Ministry, where the DMLE was located. "If you'll _please_ come with me", he said, grimacing.

"Of course, _Mr_.?", she replied, arching one of her brows.

The witch probably didn't like the way he'd addressed her, but he couldn't care less about whatever opinion she could form of him: he was determined to make her permanence as _uncomfortable_ as he possibly could.

"Loughty, Magnus Loughty", he replied, stiffly. Without waiting for an acknowledgement or sparing a single word for the wizard with her, he looked for an empty lift and gestured for them to follow him.

Their brief time in the lift went by as a tense silence filled the air.

Entering the Auror Department, Loughty felt more powerful as every second passed: comforted by the familiar surroundings, he stood a little prouder on his feet and glared at Malfoy. "You'll have to wait here, _sir_ ", he informed him.

He frowned as the man simply nodded his head, taking a seat in one of the armchairs as he sent a soothing glance at the witch.

Not that she looked bothered, anyway, which was in return bothering Magnus.

 _That stupid bitch._

* * *

 ** _( Ministry of Magic, DMLE Office, inside an interrogation room,  
Whitehall, London, England, September 21th, 2003, around 14:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

Hermione had been in the Ministry for no more than fifteen minutes, but her patience was already reaching the point of extinction.

After being escorted from the Atrium to the DMLE by an obnoxious young man who had seemed particularly unhappy to being dealing with her – and even more so with Draco –, she'd been separated from the Slytherin by the same Auror and now she was sitting at the table of one of the interrogation rooms, waiting for someone to show up and tell her exactly why she'd been summoned so urgently and with such a severe tone.

Possibly Ron. Preferably, anyone _but_ Magnus Loughty.

There was something in the way he looked at her that sent chills down her spine and put her every instinct on alert; it was like he was disgusted by the mere fact she _existed_ , and she was wondering why.

Shrugging the thought away – _as if that guy could really be a problem_ – she grabbed her phone from her purse and decided to keep herself occupied by answering texts and checking her dashboard on Mirror.

She sent one message to her brother – ' _Been brought to the Ministry for questioning, it's about the attack at Malfoy Manor but I can't be sure how long it'll take. May be late for dinner, xoxo_ ' – and one to Pansy, whom she was supposed to meet with in the afternoon – _' I've been summoned by the DMLE for questioning and it may take long. I'll call you tonight to reschedule, I'm sorry. P.S. They took my wand at the entrance, LOL. Like that matters_ '.

As Hermione was about to write another, this time to Draco, telling him to don't worry and return home and that she would call him as soon as she was out, the door opened and a witch she had never seen before entered the interrogation room.

The woman was around thirty, thirty-five years of age, with light-brown hair that barely reached passed her shoulders and hazel eyes, dressed modestly in her dark-grey suit.

"Good afternoon, Ms. Granger", she greeted, taking the only free seat in front of her and placing her quill and parchment on the table. "I'm Auror Mina Jennings and I'll be the one questioning you about the attack that occurred in the location of Malfoy Manor, Wiltshire, on the eighteenth of this month".

"It's nice to meet you, Ms. Jennings", Hermione replied, doing her best to answer with the same amount of courtesy shown by the other woman. "I must say I'm not sure what kind of information you think I will be able to provide", she started, but Mina raised a hand in front of her and gestured for the Gryffindor to stop.

"Mr. Potter's report said the _Fiendfyre_ was casted at some point after dinner time, and that those responsible believed the Malfoys to be at home in that moment. Somehow, a protection spell you placed on a bracelet you gifted to young Mr. Malfoy's daughter managed to contain the fire. Am I correct this far, Ms. Granger?"

The brunette nodded. "That's what happened. The spell on Adhara's bracelet was a personal, boosted version of the _Shield Charm_. After the attack to Daphne Greengrass I felt the instinct to give her some sort of protection, considering Death-Eaters are notorious for going after the children of their enemies".

"Who says the Malfoys are their enemies?", Mina prompted, taking a couple notes on her parchment while carefully checking she couldn't read what she was writing. "Last time I checked, Lucius Malfoy was serving time in Azkaban for actively taking part in Death-Eater activities and supporting Tom Riddle's uprising during both wars".

Flattening her lips into a tight line as she smiled to the Auror, Hermione cautiously chose her next words. "Perhaps you should check again, Auror Jennings. Lines have never been as blurred as they are since the war ended five years ago. Mr. Malfoy testified against many Death-Eaters and helped catching most of the fugitive ones. He also didn't fight in the Battle of Hogwarts, and that was more than five years ago now".

"I'm sorry, Ms. Granger. Are you suggesting Lucius Malfoy, and his son for that matter, isn't a Death-Eater?", Mina offered, looking thoroughly appalled by the idea.

The woman was chewing her bottom lip, deeply concentrated, and she was scrutinizing her face as if it was hiding the secret to eternal life.

That's when Hermione's mind came to her aid, and she figured out _exactly_ what the Ministry wanted from her: more than going over the details of the attack in hope to find some answers and catch those responsible for it, they were after her opinions on the events.

Her deposition wasn't about the crime committed, it was about judging her character and figure out where she personally stood.

She wasn't expecting the Ministry to be audacious enough to outright _not_ trust her, but the feeling was surely mutual.

"That's not what I said. I personally faced Lucius Malfoy in a couple of occasions, like at the Department of Mysteries during my fifth year at Hogwarts. It was about the same time the Ministry was denying the return of Voldemort", Hermione countered, determined to clear things sooner rather than later. "What I'm saying is that he paid for what he did, and he's been legally released from prison. Now his house has been attacked and his family threatened, and it's supposed to be your Department's job to find out who it was. I surely didn't".

"But you're the one who tamed the Fiendfyre, Ms. Granger. How do I know you're not the one who conjured it in the first place? It's known for being _un-extinguishable_ fire", Jennings asked then, and if the situation hadn't been that serious and concerning, Hermione would have probably laughed at her face.

"You think _I_ attacked Malfoy Manor?!", she shot back, her blue eyes widened in practiced surprise as she brought a hand to her chest, sighing dramatically.

" _Personally_ , I don't", Mina declared, shaking her head. "But part of my job is to make sure every lead is being followed and the truth eventually gets out. I've read your dossier, _Hermione_. Narcissa Malfoy's sister used the _Cruciatus Curse_ on you, repeatedly, and _inside_ of Malfoy Manor. The brightest witch of her age must realize that it is a trail which I must consider".

 _Oh, no. She didn't_ – the brunette thought. _Cute, calling her by her first name as if it was possible for them to create a bond and talk about their feelings. Like she should go ahead and trust the first shady Auror she met._

Mentioning Bellatrix and her torture was a low-blow, even for a Ministry official. The _Mudblood_ -shaped scar on her forearm itched underneath the glamour she usually kept it hidden with.

"I didn't cast the _Fiendfyre_ on Malfoy Manor the other night", she stated, calmly. Her conversation with the Auror was unnerving her more than she'd anticipated, and now she just wanted it to end in as little time as possible. "You can check my wand, but that has been probably already done, considering the Ministry currently has it in its possession. What Bellatrix Black did to me was an _abomination_ that could have been prevented, but funnily enough the Malfoys were in no position of helping me. They were kept hostages in their own home. As for the _Fiendfyre_ , I didn't simply make it disappear. Magic has its rules, they're many and there's no circling around them. The Shield I had placed on the bracelet helped me containing the flames long enough to let them burn a single room, therefore reaching their purpose of destruction. Ironically enough, I managed to vanquish the same room where Bellatrix carved my skin".

With that she turned up the right sleeve of her chiffon, dusty-pink blouse and simultaneously removed the glamour that covered her scar.

The Auror opened her mouth in horror, eyeing the injured skin up a couple of times before furiously brushing her quill on the parchment.

Of what she was writing, by really forcing her eyes she could pick up the words _Wandless and non-verbal magic_ , _Psychological trauma_ and _Holds no grudges?_.

Mina Jennings wasn't exactly right on that last point – she did hold some grudges, just they didn't concern Draco's family – but Hermione didn't correct her.

The less the Ministry knew about her, the better. She wasn't looking for trouble.

As the other woman recollected her thoughts and pondered her next question, Hermione tried to push out of her mind the memories their conversation had just brought up.

Years of therapy and she still had nightmares about it every once in a while, it was something the witch wasn't sure she could eventually put behind her back.

"Are there any more questions?", she prompted. The room was feeling smaller as every tick of the clock on one wall went by, and she was suddenly feeling in need of fresh air.

"No, I don't have any more questions. For now", Mina conceded, scribbling a couple more words before putting her quill down. _Bossy attitude_. "I'm afraid you're still more involved in this than you believe, Ms. Granger. The first inspection didn't produce much evidence, but the second one was slightly more successful. We believe the attack was meant to personally hit you just as much as it was meant to hurt the Malfoys".

"I'm not sure I understand", Hermione surrendered. There wasn't a single scenario in her mind where an attack at the Manor could formally represent a strike against her. "I don't live in Wiltshire, and it's not a place I go to very often", she reasoned.

"But you did rush there as soon as you knew what was happening", Mina offered.

"They couldn't know for a fact that I would", she retorted.

"No, they couldn't", the Auror agreed. Then she looked her straight in the eyes, a somewhat sad expression on her face as she spoke her next words. "Death-Eaters are known for casting the Dark Mark after they kill…", the woman trailed off.

" _Nobody was killed_ ", Hermione noted. _Nobody was killed at the Summer Festival, either –_ she thought. "And what does that have to do with me?"

"Somebody was killed. It just wasn't a _person_. The _Fiendfyre_ was casted on a living creature that ran towards the Manor as it was burned alive, lighting up the gardens and the entire perimeter of the house", Mina announced in a grave tone. "We can't be one-hundred percent sure, but… _we identified the creature as your cat, Ms. Granger_ ".

Her first thought was that she wanted to throw up: even before receiving the missing link that explained her personal involvement in the matter, the idea of someone setting on fire a living creature – may that be a person, an Elf, a Goblin or anything else – was appalling and it genuinely made her sick.

It was the kind of action that required a level of wickedness that was extremely high, to say the very least.

It was against nature, really.

Her second thought went to the only cat she'd ever owned – though _ownership_ wasn't the proper term to describe the relationship they'd shared. " _Crookshanks?_ ", she exhaled in a shaky breath.

The Auror opened the small folder she'd kept hidden underneath the sheets of parchment until now, picking up a couple of pictures that she placed in front of Hermione. "The autopsy confirmed it was a male Half-Kneazle with ginger hair and yellow eyes. He threw himself into a fountain in the back gardens, but unfortunately it wasn't enough".

Mina looked seriously contrite and sorry about the cat's fate, but it didn't do much to lighten the boulder weighing on her chest.

Glancing down at the picture, the brunette was made aware of just how little of Crookshanks had been left when the Fiendfyre had finally decided to leave him alone. "How long did he suffer?", she managed to ask, fighting against the tears pricking at the corners of her eyes.

An half-exposed, half-burned skeleton, a single spot of his beautiful ginger coat, the upper part of the cat's face, where his gorgeous, yellow eyes were still widened in fear.

Everything else had been burnt to ashes.

* * *

One hour later, as she finally exited the interrogation room after a frenzied session of targeted questions and carefully chosen, voluntarily vague answers, Hermione didn't remember much of her exchange with Auror Mina Jennings.

Her memories were clear up until the moment the woman had showed her the pictures of Crookshanks' dead body, then they started to blend into each other: if she didn't know better – that it was illegal and a violation of her magical rights, for instance – she'd say she'd been the victim of a _Confundus Charm_.

She hadn't seen the ginger cat in almost six years, as the creature had escaped from her custody the same day she'd obliviated her parents. It was like he'd known she was going to send him away, too; how he'd ended up in Death-Eaters hands was a mystery, but one she was eager to solve.

Hermione's blood was boiling.

She had already been pissed about the incursion at Malfoy Manor – who the hell did they think they were, going to someone's house and trying to burn it down? – but now she was outright enraged.

Now it was _personal_.

Whatever they hoped to achieve by coming after her, Hermione was going to be prepared for when they finally reached her: she was ready to wage war.

She found Draco sitting exactly where she'd seen him the last time; he was busy with his phone, so she cleared her throat to announce her presence.

"Were they questioning you about the Spanish Inquisition, too?", he teased, trying to sound light-hearted but with little success. The concern in his voice was evident.

"You shouldn't have waited for me", she replied, ignoring his joke. She wasn't in the right mood to banter with him. "It took forever", she noted, grimacing at the big clock hanging on the wall behind him.

"Almost two hours, actually", he offered with a smirk. "But I don't mind".

" _Shall we_?", Hermione asked, eyeing the door on her right. All she wanted was to leave the Ministry and push those fucking pictures into a remote corner of her mind. Possibly with the help of a lot of booze.

Draco nodded and raised from his seat, but instead of going directly to the exit, he put his hands on the sides of her arms and looked her straight in the eyes. "Are you okay?", he inquired.

"I will be", was her honest reply. "Let's just get out of here, Draco. _Please_ ".

The pair strolled out of the DMLE as most of the Aurors in the office sent them a suspicious glance.

Malfoy was holding her by the waist, as if she needed support. Reality was that she did.

As soon as they were back in the main hallway of the second level of the building, Hermione was able to breathe with a little less difficulty.

No doubt she was going to schedule an appointment with her therapist sooner rather than later.

She may have looked like she was made of stone from the outside, but recent events were starting to get their hold on her psyche.

"It's better already", she reassured the blond when he asked how she was feeling. "Thank you for staying even though you shouldn't have".

Draco shrugged. "It's not a big deal, really. Besides, Theo would kill me if he knew I left you alone in there".

"That I would do", called a familiar voice from behind them.

Quickly turning on her heels, Hermione saw her brother standing not far behind them, leaning on one of the marble columns with his arms crossed in front of his chest and a serious expression on his juvenile face.

"I came as soon as I got your text, but they wouldn't let me in for some reason", said Theodore, covering the distance between them. "Thank you for taking care of her, mate", he added, this time addressing Malfoy as he patted him on one shoulder.

Ever-so-slightly, Draco blushed. "It wasn't a problem", he pointed out. "Though I should probably get going now and explain to my mother why she had to cancel her afternoon of shopping to babysit".

"Tell Narcissa I'm sorry", the brunette chimed in, seriously remorseful about messing up so many people's plans for that day. "And that she's invited to join Pansy and I whenever she wants".

"Tell aunt Cissa we'll see her on Saturday", added Theo with a smile. "And ask if maybe Tipsy would be as gentle as to make me her special lamb recipe?"

Hermione eyed the pair suspiciously as they strolled towards the lifts, both men occupied with a blow-and-answer type of discussion over the Elf's cooking.

She listened quietly, wondering if they felt the same kind of affection for their other miniature servants, or if Tipsy happened to be a special case.

The first lift who came around was fully packed, and so was the second, but on the third try they eventually managed to squeeze themselves in the small space that was left.

The fact most people didn't want to be too close to a Nott or a Malfoy definitely helped.

 _Their loss_ – she thought.

The trio's descent to the Atrium was chaperoned by silence, and all Hermione could hear were the whispers of the other wizards and witches inside the lift: they were doing a very poor job at _discreetly_ talking behind Theodore and Draco's backs.

In any other occasion she'd have given those people a piece of her mind, and scolded them for judging others without really knowing them and listening to whatever bullshit the Daily Prophet had been printing about them, but today she was too tired, sad and worn-out.

She hoped the arrogant glance she threw their way would be enough to make them stop, or at least lower their not-so-hushed tones, but it didn't.

Luckily, the doors of the lift opened, and they hastily entered the Atrium.

Circling around the giant statue – no longer the creepy one placed there by Tom Riddle, but a beautiful piece of art that portrayed Merlin and Morgana holding hands, as if they'd finally reached peace with each other after their deaths in pretty much the same way the wizarding world was rebuilding itself once again – they approached the desk where their wands were being held.

After they recovered them, it was time for Hermione and Theo to part ways with Draco. "Think about my proposal", the brunette reminded him. "It won't be long before the best houses are taken".

"I'll let you know as soon as I make up my mind", Draco complied, taking advantage of Theo's momentary distraction to wink at her. "Take care, Granger. If you need anything, you know where to find me".

The blond then greeted his friend, promising he'd see him soon, and with a flick of his wand and a quick twirl he dis-apparated away.

"Let's get you home", her brother said to her, and before she could blink, protest or tell him that she hated side-along, Theodore apparated both of them in his favourite room in Nott Manor: the solarium.

* * *

 ** _( Nott Manor, somewhere in Dorset, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 16:40 p.m. )_**

* * *

The siblings landed somewhat gracefully into the spacious, luminous room.

Just as Theodore was about to mentally praise himself for his apparition skills, a weird noise came from the back of Hermione's throat and she retched everything in her body that her stomach was yet to digest.

Residues of what her brother presumed had been her lunch spread everywhere on the floor, from his shoes to the expensive Persian carpet.

He held her as she finished emptying her stomach, making sure her hair wouldn't get in the way, then performed the quickest _Scourgify_ in the history of magic as soon as she was done.

Theo helped her sit on one of the couches, then conjured up one of the few Elves who'd autonomously decided to remain with him after he'd freed them all the first time he'd returned to the Manor after the war. " _Praline_!", he called, and four seconds later a minute Elf appeared.

She was wearing the blue, well-tailored uniform ( _Anastasia's choice_ ) his family's Elves used to be bad-mouthed for in Pureblood circles, the silver Nott crest shining proudly on her chest.

"Praline heard Master calling", she greeted, bowing in front of him until her head almost touched the floor. Then she lifted back up, and her eyes widened as she placed them on Hermione.

It was the first time his twin actually set foot in their family's home: up until now she'd always refused to, sharply commenting that it meant nothing to her, but it was part of the inheritance they'd eventually split up – she had been rather cautious in taking Nott money, too – and it was about time she dealt with it.

Keeping it to himself felt wrong, but he wanted her to at least see it before she said " _You can keep it to yourself, Theo. I don't want you to sell it just to give me my share, but I don't want anything to do with it, either_ " again.

Bringing her there in a moment of weakness and without asking for her permission was the _Slytherin_ thing to do, but so far she hadn't complained.

" _Mistress Eloise has returned home, at last_!", Praline squeaked with excitement, running towards the witch on her small legs and almost tripping on the hem of the rug as she threw herself at Hermione's legs.

Meanwhile, Hermione looked a little dumb-struck, and her eyes kept darting from his brother to the creature and back.

She opened her mouth, as if she wanted to ask him something, but then she flattened her lips once again and took the Elf's wrinkled hands in her own. "It's very nice to- _Umh_ , meet you, Praline", she said to her, smiling gently as the other blew her nose on the upper part of her uniform. Then she looked back at Theo and mouthed: " _How does she know who I am?_ "

"Praline was supposed to be your personal Elf, but she helped Ricochet taking care of me, instead", he offered, not bothering to keep his tone low.

"Praline was waiting for you for twenty-three years", the Elf added, her eyes still shiny because of the tears of joy she'd just cried. "Praline is very happy that Mistress is home now".

"Would you mind gathering the others in the ballroom, Praline?", Theo gently asked her. "We'll meet you there in a little while. I'm sure they want to meet her, too".

Praline finally detached herself from his twin, and with a final, courteous bow in her direction she turned around to face him. "Master Theo's wish is my command", she chanted before disappearing with a snap of her fingers, which were oddly long when compared to her tiny hands.

Theo sat next to Hermione. "Before you slice my throat, I'll have you know that I freed all the Elves the moment their ownership was passed down to me, but a good number of them decided to stay anyway. _They said they needed to make sure I was okay",_ he recalled with an amused smile. "Every one of them gets paid _weekly_ and they also have the east wing all to themselves".

"Double their pay-check and perhaps I'll be fine with it", the brunette retorted, still looking not totally pleased. "I suppose the uniforms were a nice idea on your part, though. I was used to see them covered in tatters when we were students", she conceded.

"It wasn't my idea, but our mother's", Theodore objected. "When I met the Elves for the first time they were already fully clothed. She also forbade them from punishing themselves. You'll see when we go downstairs that they're rather _peculiar_ for belonging to a Pureblood family".

"Praline is oddly _loud_ , but she does seem lovely", she noted. "I just don't understand why she'd be so excited about meeting me. I should be just one more person she'll do the dirty work for, right?"

"You're way more than that. Like I mentioned, she was supposed to be your personal Elf. In our world that's more like being someone's nanny rather than a servant", he snorted.

"A nanny gets paid, so _technically_ it classifies as being someone's servant", his sister debated, smirking triumphally at him.

"Fine. But listen, whether you like it or not House-Elves usually _love_ their families, and they love taking care of its members. Nobody knows why, but they do. Making you happy _literally_ makes them happy", Theo countered. "Nobody is forcing you to ask them do to stuff for you, just don't be too harsh when you refuse their services. They're rather snappish in that regard".

"I'll be on my best behaviour", Hermione promised him, finally relenting. "Not that I'll be seeing them very much", she added, then, eyeing him sharply. She looked like she was feeling better, at least. "Don't think I haven't noticed you brought me here before asking for my opinion first".

He flashed her a wicked grin, then raised his hand in front of him in a protective stance when she grabbed one of the pillows on the sofa and hit him with it. "I felt like it was a once in a life opportunity", he confessed.

"Can't argue with that", she conceded. "I've been kind of a _bitch_ about all of this, haven't I?", Hermione asked before he could reply, looking around.

"I've been as much of a _dick_ in trying to make you accept it", he admitted. "Look, I know other people have been your family for twenty years".

The witch tilted her head up and looked him straight in the eyes, as if she wanted to tell him to stop talking right there.

She had no need to voice her thoughts ( _I don't want to talk about it_ ), because they were written all over her face.

"Anastasia and Cantankerus Nott have been mine since the day I was born, they were the only family I ever knew. But now I have you, and-", Theo stopped, questioning if it really was the right time to address the topic. "I don't know. Sometimes I'm not very good at separating the two concepts, I'm afraid".

Then he lowered his eyes, not capable of looking at her a moment longer.

Hermione appeared genuinely distressed, and now he was giving an additional load to the emotional bargain she was so obviously struggling with.

The witch grabbed him by the chin, forcing her brother to face her. "I read our father's letter", she confessed, and he noticed the way she quietly battled with pronouncing the word _father_ while referring to Cantankerus Nott.

He was thankful for the effort, nonetheless. There were many things he could have replied, and he was dying to know what was in it, but he opted for the simplest question. "What do you think?"

" _Weirdest experience of my life_ ", she grimaced. " _If I didn't know better, I'd say that man loved both of us very much_ ".

Theodore's first thought was that she was joking. Disappointed by his umpteenth push, she was getting her revenge by toying with his feelings.

He quickly discarded the thought: had she been a Slytherin, then perhaps it could have been the case; but Hermione was as Gryffindor as they came, and in his company, she usually kept alive her old habit of wearing her heart on her sleeve.

"What do you mean?", he asked.

"You can read it if you want", she began. "Well, not now, as it is at the Penthouse, but sometime soon. Anyway, I don't know how to explain myself without sounding like a complete freak, but-", she trailed off, biting her lower lip and looking as if she was waiting for his permission to continue.

Theo settled on sending his best reassuring glance her way and hoping it was enough. Luckily, it seemed to do the trick.

"It was like he _knew_ me, Theo", she said after a while. "Like he knew what makes me happy, or what gets me mad, my triggers. Like he knew what makes me, well, _me_. Like I said, weirdest experience of my life", she rambled. "And I broke out of Gringotts on top of a _dragon_ ".

Well, that was unexpected; he'd imagined her being furious or indifferent to their father's words, but her expression was one of plain confusion.

"He had a dossier on you in his personal studio", he shared, feeling it was about the right time. He'd never approached the subject before because he had no idea how she could possibly perceive the information, but now they were finally talking about it, and he was determined to get some answers. For both their sakes. "It was very detailed. Your grades in Hogwarts, articles about you on the Prophet, he even kept one of your wanted posters from when you where on the run with Potter and Weasley. There was even a medical record from St. Mungo's regarding the injury you suffered in our fifth year".

"You mean when his comrade raised his wand at me? He was there, too, from what I recall", Hermione admonished, looking thoroughly creeped out by the news.

 _Easy, Theo_ – he mentally reminded himself. _Don't push it._

But Theodore Nott was a free spirit, and he was very much like his twin sister in that regard: whenever he felt or thought something, there was no turning back.

"That's probably why you're still alive, then", he claimed, then promptly ignored her scoff of derision, which pointed out quite majestically what was her opinion on the matter. "Antonin Dolohov was known for never having a victim escaping his clutches before, not while still alive. As of today, you're the only person alive who survived his curse".

"What are you suggesting, exactly?", she inquired, sitting a little straighter on the sofa, hands clenched tightly at the pillow now sitting in her lap.

"Dolohov was the only one who knew the counter-curse, being the spell one of his own craft. It's preposterous to assume the most vicious of Death-Eaters deliberately chose not to kill Harry Potter's best friend. Not to mention he thought of you as a _Mudblood_ ", Theo ventured, then realized his mistake as Hermione flinched on his last word. "Voldemort's army was made up of all kinds of monsters, Hermione, but most of them were fucking scared of Antonin Dolohov in particular. As far-fetched as it sounds, I think the only _logical_ explanation is that our father, considering he knew who you were all along, must have interceded for you. Or something around those lines", he concluded.

" _So, what? Thank you, daddy dearest_?", Hermione spat, rolling her eyes. "I don't know, maybe you're right, maybe you're not. I'm afraid we'll _never_ know. He didn't mention the episode in his letter. Actually, he didn't mention anything about me that was accessible from public records, besides from _praising me_ for my academic profit".

"I guess we'll have to wait until I read that letter, I'm sure everything in there has a reasonable explanation", her brother offered, not sure of what to do with the information he'd just received.

Theodore remembered his father as someone who would have gone to extreme lengths to protect his secrets, but he hadn't realized how many of those were there, not until he'd died: he'd thought of Cantankerus as a semi-open book, one whose darkest pages he'd known and still remembered by heart.

He'd been proven wrong many, many times.

Hermione must had noticed he was brooding, because she smiled and affectionately touched his arm. "We'll figure it out", she promised. "Now, why don't you escort me to the closest bathroom? I smell like the Auror Department and I need to refresh".

Theo promptly stood and extended a hand, helping the witch to raise to her feet. "Let's go, there's one downstairs".

He accompanied her to the lower level, then led the way through a couple of corridors, until the pair reached his sleeping quarters on the south wing of the Manor, and he opened the door to a beautifully decorated bedroom.

The walnut furniture complemented the light walls very nicely, and the only colours in the room apart from the wooden items, were egg-shell and cornflower.

Nothing to do with what muggle _design_ was capable of, and he had been thinking about remodelling the Manor for a while now, but it was a very nice room, nonetheless, and the one Anastasia had personally fixed up for her only daughter.

Hermione seemed enamoured with her current surroundings, and he secretly hoped that wouldn't change as soon as he told her about it.

"This is _your_ room", said Theo. "Well, the one that was arranged in your memory. I always thought mum did it to keep your memory alive, but now I think she just secretly hoped you'd return. _Eventually_ ".

"It's lovely", the witch admitted. "I usually prefer modern décor, but this is very nice. Kind of like the place fairy-tales princesses sleep in".

"Like I said, it's your room. You're welcome to sleep here every time you want", he replied, then stopped Hermione before she could protest. "Before you make up your mind about that, perhaps you should take a peek at the family _library_. The bathroom is behind the door on your left", he added, gesturing to wooden portal.  
Then he went to the walk-in wardrobe and picked up a new pair of toothbrush and toothpaste and knocked twice on the bathroom door Hermione had locked behind her back. "Thought you might want to wash your teeth", he offered.

The brunette smiled gratefully and grabbed the objects from his hand, then walked towards the sink without closing the door.

He took it as an invitation to follow her, so he did. Leaning on one side of the door-frame, he silently watched over her as she refreshed her mouth and erased every trace of her previous sickness.

The calm and collected family moment was interrupted by Hermione, who spat whatever water was left in her mouth in the sink and stared at him from his reflection on the mirror hanging on top of the washbowl.

" _They killed my cat_ ", she announced, her voice emotionless and her mind-state concealed. "Whoever attacked Draco's family, they killed my cat to spread the _Fiendfyre_ around Malfoy Manor. That's why there was the Dark Mark".

Theo couldn't believe his ears. He was about to ask her to repeat herself when a bell rang in his head, and after that it was too late to un-ring it. "Nobody was killed the night Daphne was attacked", he reminisced. "But the Dark Mark was still hanging on top of Diagon Alley. I am very sorry about your pet, Hermione".

"My thoughts exactly", she nodded. "At this point there are only two available options. Option A, someone died and nobody noticed, or even worse the Ministry covered a murder. Option B, and it's the one I'd put my money on, we're dealing with two different groups of Death-Eaters".

He blinked. "Two groups? You must be _kidding_ me. Like one wasn't enough already", he muttered. "Isn't it possible they thought Daphne would die from all her injuries, though? The Healers were barely able to save her life".

"The Death-Eaters I fought against in the war would have just _Avada_ the shit out of her", she countered, rather harshly. Then she added, in a softer tone: "These people, four according to the victim, used muggle knifes and their bare fists, magic was barely involved".

Theodore sighed. "Maybe you should expose your theory to Potter, he's the one dealing with the attack at the Manor".

"Yet I'm sure Harry didn't know about my interrogation", she noted. "I saw him this morning over breakfast and he didn't mention it".

"Well, that's weird. Would you like me to invite him and Pansy for dinner so that you can ask him about it?", he proposed. It was probably not very Slytherin of him to put someone's well-being on top of his own, but he found it almost impossible not to make her happy when he had the means to do just so.

"Do you think we could invite our cousins, too? I'd like to ask Daphne a couple of questions about her attack", she trailed off with an apologetic look. "I promise I'm not going to harass her about it, I just need to check some facts. Whether it's one or two groups, someone is coming after _me_. I'd rather be sufficiently prepared when that happens".

"That's no problem, I'll call them both after we're done with the Elves. Whom are still waiting for us, by the way", said Theo, smirking at the slightly panicked expression on her face.

"We must go, then", Hermione replied, walking back towards the door and linking one arm with his. "I can't wait to meet them and ask them to please stop calling me _Mistress_. There's only a certain level of cringe a witch can handle at once".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Here we go, chapter 23nd is eventually out  
&& I really, really hope you enjoyed it! :)  
I'm really sorry it took so long for me to update,  
but it's been a busy couple of months, unfortunately.  
You shouldn't worry, still.  
I'm working on the story as much as I can, and I'm pretty  
happy with the ideas I'm getting recently.  
Just, they require a lot of planning.  
Also, I'm completely revamping my tumblr to add more visual  
content to the story, and I'm also almost done with writing the  
legend for the WizVille map I designed (also on tumblr).

Before I let you go, a couple of explanations about some things  
that happened in this chapter, for those of you who might be  
interested: 1) Crookshanks didn't deserve it and if you hate me  
I kind of understand, really; sadly, using a cat to start fires it's  
something that real people have done, and I always appreciate  
it when I can incorporate some realism into the Potterverse.  
2) One of the reasons I started thinking (and then writing) my  
own story on the Pureblood Hermione trope is because I always  
loved reading this trope, but I can't cope with the way many  
stories out there deal with the whole Elves thing. I guess that  
I just can't picture her being all like "fuck the elves gimme diamonds".  
I personally think that the ownership of an House-elf equals  
slavery in her mind, and yup, be ready because the discussion  
is far from closed.

Now that I've rambled enough to make you regret wishing for an  
update... Have an amazing day! :)

p.s. would you be okay if like tv shows I'd write a "musical" chapter? lol  
p.p.s. glee was my one true love when I was younger i'm sorry


	24. BACKIN' IT UP

**0DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **24.**

 **BACKIN' IT UP**

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 ** _( Nott Manor, somewhere in Dorset, England,  
September 21th, 2003, around 19:00 p.m. )_**

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Hermione's first meeting with the Elves of Nott Manor went surprisingly well: they hadn't fussed over _not_ calling her Mistress and proposed a more reasonable _Miss_ _Eloise_ all by themselves, to which she'd reluctantly agreed.

After all, it wasn't like she could keep the name Hermione forever, was it?

Not after her recent, and probably last, _tête-à-tête_ with Jane Granger.

The things the woman had said to her were still digging holes in her soul, awakening her deepest fears and insecurities, and as days were passing, she was becoming more and more convinced about her decision to distance herself from the Grangers once and for good.

They'd had their opportunity, after all; she'd been sorry for way too long about something that wasn't even her fault: she understood why the couple hated Cantankerus and even Anastasia Nott, but she'd been just as much of a victim as they were in the great scheme of things, and now she was tired of carrying the blame on her shoulders.

They'd made it perfectly clear that they didn't want her in their lives.

 _So be it –_ was her thought on the matter.

There was no way she was going to keep hurting herself in the hope of getting them back: they didn't consider her family no more, and as much as it made her heart ache, she was going to return them the favour.

If Hermione wanted to keep herself sane (which was an absolute yes, and _thank you very much_ ), it was really the only thing she could do.

She probably wasn't going to end up claiming the name Eloise Nott for herself, but it was worth a shot.

Starting by having the Elves calling her this way felt like the easiest step to take in that direction, and one that could be undone without much trouble: she could simply ask them to change the way they addressed her again.

The witch sighed at her reflection in the mirror.

Hermione was currently getting ready for the dinner-party he'd convinced her brother to host that day, and while Theo was already entertaining the guests in the ball-room, she was taking a little extra time to make sure she was calm and collected before she went downstairs.

Behind the façade of a simple gathering between friends and family members was an investigation on both the return of Death-Eater violence and her personal standing with the current Ministry.

She needed to speak with Harry _asap._

Checking her halo braids were sitting just the way she liked them on the crown of her head, she performed an easy beauty-spell that styled the rest of her hair's length in soft waves.

Her makeup was pretty plain, but elegant nonetheless, way more than it was required for dinner at someone's brother's home: a simple smoky-eye in the warm tones of oranges and browns really made the blue of her eyes pop, aided by a thick layer of mascara on both her top and bottom lashes, while her cheeks and lips were gracefully enhanced by a muted shade of pink.

She'd probably gone a little overboard with her highlighter, but it was her favourite cosmetic product in the entire world: to complement the rest of her look, tonight she'd chosen an opal tone with a metallic texture that matched her outfit.

The witch was wearing a white, over-the-knee, lace up bandage dress with thin spaghetti straps that was most definitely on the _fit_ side.

Turning her back on the mirror, she set out on picking up a pair of shoes from those she'd asked Theo to retrieve for her from the Penthouse.

Hermione narrowed her options down until she was left with two pairs to choose from, then she opted for the four inches military green corset heels instead of the equally pretty ankle-strap heeled sandals in nude.

As out of character as it may have sounded, the witch was very much in love with her collection of expensive footwear and wearing an especially nice pair usually worked wonders in improving her mood.

Today was no exception. Slightly lifted up in her spirits, Hermione grabbed her telephone from the vanity she'd been sitting at while doing her makeup, then closed the door to the bedroom and ventured downstairs.

Nott Manor was an impressive building full of secondary routes, but she managed to find the ball-room with the decent timing of approximately six or seven minutes.

Confident in her designer shoes, the witch rushed inside, heels clattering on the marble floor with her every step, looking for her brother.

Theo was standing near the fireplace with Luna by his side, and the pair was so absorbed by their conversation that they didn't notice her at first.

"Here I am", she announced, a little smile playing on her lips.

The blonde was wearing her beautiful long hair in a tuck-and-roll chignon that caressed the back of her neck, while her green eyes were circled by a thick line of black kajal that made them pop.

She was wearing a teal A-line dress that left her shoulders completely bare; it was very fitted around her hips, and it flared out towards the hem. "Hello, Hermione", Luna greeted her. "How are you doing today?"

There was no need for Hermione to ask if she'd been updated on the latest events: by the way she was looking at her it seemed obvious that she was already very well informed.

"I'm finding my way through this nonsense", Hermione promised her friend. "What about you, instead? How are your researches going?"

In the time she didn't write for The Quibbler Luna was busy as a _magi-zoologist_ , and so far she'd discovered a good number of species who'd been disregarded as myths many centuries before.

The last time she'd been updated she was very close to prove the existence of her lifetime obsession, _Wrackspurts_ , and over many years she'd become quite invested in the matter, too.

Back in their Hogwarts years Hermione had expressed her scepticism very loudly, but now that she was older and wiser – and Luna had proved the world wrong a couple of times already – she was spontaneously rooting for her team.

They weren't very different, the two of them, not for the things that really mattered.

However, the things she loved her for were the ones Luna was and Hermione never could.

"As soon as the Ministry renovates my contract I'll be ready to finalize the on-field searching operation. Last time we went very close before we ran out of money", the former Ravenclaw divulged. "I realize we went a little over the budget, but it was all for things we couldn't anticipate, and I can promise you we were about to have a breakthrough".

" _Fuck the Ministry_ ", Theo ventured. "Can't you ask privates to finance your research?", he asked, then turned to his sister. " _Can't we_?"

"I'm afraid nobody cares about Wrackspurts enough to spend their own money on proving their existence", Luna hesitated with a polite smile. "But don't worry, I should receive the final papers by the end of next week".

"The legislation on research is a little tricky here", added Hermione. "The Ministry tries to keep new patents inside their walls".

With the upcoming expansion of _MagiTech_ in the UK she'd documented herself pretty extensively on the issue, and the results weren't very optimistic: in wizarding Britain, bureaucracy seemed to be the worst enemy of progress.

"I say we finance Luna's project-", Theo began, but she interrupted him before he could finish.

"I financed many of Luna's projects abroad", she told him, and the blonde nodded on his side. "I'm not saying we shouldn't back up her research, especially with all the money we have, just that we should do it from behind the scenes. I don't wish to be interrogated again because of _Wrackspurts_ ".

"That's hardly a possibility", Luna tried to play it down a little. "But I agree with your sister, Theo. _MagiTech_ doesn't need the Ministry breathing down its neck".

" _Thank you_ ", Hermione mouthed at the Ravenclaw witch. "They're already coming for me, I don't want them to go after my company".

"Basically, our hands are tied", Theo muttered, darkly.

"Am I missing a _bondage_ discussion?", chirped a familiar voice from behind their backs.

The trio had been so focused on their debate they hadn't seen the couple coming out of the loo. "What else did I miss?", Pansy added, walking fast towards the trio to plaster a kiss on Hermione's cheek, and then did the same with both Luna and Theodore.

After she'd properly greeted both her best friends, Hermione thought it was better to update the Slytherin right away. "We were talking shit about the Ministry, the usual stuff", she offered.

Harry blushed. "I had no idea they wanted to bring you in for questioning. I swear, you have to believe me", he begged, but she quickly waved a hand in front of his face.

"You don't have to worry, Harry. I know you had nothing to do with it. Not that I think of myself as above the law, but at least you would have given me a heads up", she replied. "Anyway, the Auror who interrogated me went easy on me for most of the time, I can't complain too much".

At least Mina Jennings hadn't felt pleasure in showing her Crookshanks' pictures, which she couldn't say for the other Auror, the one who'd escorted her and Draco from the Atrium.

She had felt the waves of hate Mr. Loughty had been emanating in her presence. Why he'd be so spiteful, Hermione wasn't in the position to know.

"I still haven't put your name in my report, though", Harry countered. "And I'm pretty sure Ron didn't add it either".

"I don't think it was Ronald", she reassured him. "Perhaps you could ask your colleague the next time you see her", the witch proposed.

" _Great idea_ ", Pansy cut her short, propping herself down on the sofa and tugging at her boyfriend's arm so that he would sit next to her. "In all honesty, I think you should be careful, Hermione".

Nobody else was talking when the Slytherin was done, and this time they all heard the floo activating once again: Daphne and Astoria came out of it a few moments later, their dress robes completely unscathed.

They were wearing matching velvet cloaks in emerald green, but their dresses were very different: the former was wearing a black turtleneck bodycon dress with three-quarters sleeves that reached just above her knee, while the latter was sporting a maxi-dress with a tribal print that showed half of her long legs through twin slits on the sides of the skirt.

If it wasn't for the striking contrast between the colours of their hair, ash blonde for Daphne and deep mahogany for Astoria, they could have been mistaken for twins: the two sisters resembled each other way more than she and Theo did, even though the Nott siblings were actually born together.

The younger Greengrass smiled at her cousins. "Theodore, Hermione, thank you for having us tonight", she said to both before addressing only the oldest of the two. "Merlin, it's been a long time since this ballroom had a party held in it. When was that? Your thirteenth birthday?"

"The _Easter Hunt_ of the same year", the wizard corrected her in a whispered tone.

Hermione didn't need to listen to the next words they exchanged: that was probably the last time Theo had seen his ( _their?_ ) mother in the occasion of a party.

She knew Anastasia Nott's health had started deteriorating during the holidays between their third and fourth year, and by the time they'd bordered the Hogwarts Express on September 1st, she was already gone.

Thinking of her death always made her uneasy.

Many people expected her to be upset, but she couldn't find it in herself: she'd shared a single conversation with the woman, of which she barely remembered the details, and even though she kept hearing great things about her from those who'd met her, there was nothing there for Hermione to mourn.

 _What was there that she could feel the absence of?  
_  
Theodore had years of good memories to cling to but feeding off from them just because she now considered herself motherless didn't sound right; Anastasia was the happy thought he exploited to conjure up his Patronus, and she really didn't want to _intrude_.

Pansy chose that moment to wave a hand in front of her face. "Are you coming, Hermione? Your brother said we'll wait for Blaise at the bar".

The witch automatically nodded her head after picking up only the final sentence. "Isn't Ginny coming with him?"

"Ginevra's in retirement with the Harpies. They need to practice for the playoffs", the Slytherin said, then shrugged dismissively as in any occasion Quidditch was mentioned. Sometimes, she could be even more obnoxious about it than her former self, and that was almost impossible. "Not to be _that_ friend, but why hasn't Draco been invited? I thought you were with him earlier today".

Hermione's first reaction was to simply glare at Pansy before checking if someone had heard them, but luckily enough they were standing several steps behind the others, who were already in proximity of the bar. "Lower your voice, if you don't mind", she chided. "I did invite Malfoy, actually, but predictably enough he had other things to do. He _does_ have a _child_ , remember?"

It took a single movement of her friend's eyebrows for the witch to understand that she was pushing it too hard.

"I remember that very well, considering I'm the god-mother of said child", Pansy replied, stiffly. "I was just wondering why Daphne would be here while he's not. Last time I checked, you weren't much of a fan".

"Things are a little less unnerving now that she's not trying to ruin Theo's life", Hermione countered. Lately she'd been very aggressive with the former Slytherin, and that seemed like the perfect opportunity to apologize for it. "Look, I'm sorry I've been so hard on you lately", she added, more softly. "I honestly don't know what's going on with me. My emotions have been all over the place, but that's no excuse. I shouldn't take it out on you".

"You were the same before we launched _MagiTech_ in the US", Pansy said. "I'm sure it's just a phase, and when it'll pass you can buy my forgiveness with a new pair of Jimmy Choos".

"I'm afraid there isn't one that you don't already possess, but I'll do my best", she conceded with a smile, hugging her friend as she pulled her in the direction of the bar.

It was part of their tradition: whenever one of the two fucked up really bad or did something that hurt the other, the guilty party would apologize and gift something nice to the other, and then they would simply drink over their argument.

No matter how enraged with one another they could get, they knew the friendship they shared had forged a bond between them which, if broken, would have shattered both their hearts.

Pansy Parkinson was one of the very few certainties in her life, and only thinking of losing her friendship made her sick.

" _I love you, by the way_ ", she murmured in her ear as they approached the rest of the group.

" _I love you, too, impossible witch_ ", was the whispered reply.

* * *

Blaise joined the party approximately at thirty past seven, extremely _dashing_ in his black oxford button down shirt with short sleeves and chartreuse wool trousers.

The dark-brown dreadlocks were styled in a half man-bun at the nape of his neck, and the corporate beard he'd been grooming recently sat nicely on top of his diamond-shaped face.

If she didn't know better, Pansy would have thought he was looking for someone to _seduce_.

However, the young and handsome Zabini was very much faithful when committed to a serious relationship, and the effort he'd put in his appearance was exclusively due to his exceptional vanity.

The fact he was missing his girlfriend was written all over his face.

"So kind of you to grace us with your presence", she teased him, raising from her seat on the bar-stool to give one of her oldest friend a hug.

"I'm sorry I'm late, I had to make a tough decision at work and I ended up going over the papers twice without even realizing it", he apologized, returning the squeeze. "What did I miss?"

"Why do you always expect me to keep you people up to date with gossip?", the witch scoffed, but she was laughing. "Nothing exciting, anyway. Hermione has been questioned by Aurors, but that's pretty much it".

"How are you doing, Blaise?", Astoria chimed in, approaching the pair with her sister in tow.

Like it usually happened when she was in proximity of her ex, Pansy stiffened a little.

The wizard had probably noticed, because he reassuringly nodded his head at her before smiling at the Greengrass sisters. " _Astoria_ , _Daphne_ ", he said, courteously bowing his head. "You get more beautiful every time I see you. As a matter of fact, things are going great, lately. What about you?".

The witch couldn't contradict him on his first observation: Astoria was five feet and eight inches of sheer northern beauty with her porcelain skin, the sapphire blue eyes and the long ebony hair; on the other hand, Daphne was a little taller, a natural blonde, and, _Merlin forgave her_ , didn't she had an amazing figure, with all her luscious curves, the long shapely legs and the sun-kissed complexion.

Both witches were blushing because of Blaise's compliment, but while the younger sister had a flirtatious attitude and an amused smile on her lips (same old Astoria), from Pansy's perspective the other was simply playing her usual part: the prime and perfect Pureblood young lady.

She wondered if Daphne was ever going to change.

Or was she just going to always do what other people _expected_ of her?

"I've never been happier in my life", the blonde exclaimed, "I'm finally in charge of my own life, what's there _not_ to like?", she added, wiggling her eyebrows unapologetically, and for a second Pansy recognized a glimpse of the girl he'd fallen in love with all those years before: the Daphne who wasn't scared to fight for herself, the witty, cunning, sarcastic and charming witch who had been her best friend way before she'd become her first love.

They were probably never going to recover the friendship they'd once shared, but she was glad to hear things were finally going well for her – and without hurting third and innocent parties, namely Theodore, too.

"What happened to Idabelle?", she asked, unable to put a hold on her curiosity. Pansy had always been an inquisitive mind, no matter how hard her family had tried and failed to suffocate that aspect of her personality.

She'd obviously heard Hermione's full resume of the dinner party where Mrs. Greengrass had finally got what she deserved, but she wanted Daphne and Astoria's account, too.

"Mother's moved to a flophouse in Knockturn Alley, I think. I haven't heard from her since the day she left and told my dad I wasn't his biological daughter", Astoria offered. "Someone told me she's been waiting tables somewhere in Diagon, but I really don't pay attention to any gossip revolving around her. Not only she tried to force me and then my sister into marriages we didn't want, she also made an attempt at turning my father against me. That woman's as good as _dead_ to me", she concluded, implacably.

Now _that_ was something that prompted Pansy's curiosity.

Hermione hadn't mentioned a single word about Euriphides Grengrass not being Astoria's father (at least _biologically_ ).

"Well, Mrs. Greengrass was always a difficult woman to deal with", began Blaise, but Daphne cut him off with a snort.

"Mother's a _bitch_ , you can say it. We've all been thinking it all along, anyway", the witch sighed.

"No objections from me on that regard", Hermione chose that moment to join the conversation, and offered Pansy a glance that suggested she'd figure out she was now aware of the little piece of gossip she'd kept out of her tale about Idabelle's fall from Pureblood heaven. "Are you guys ready for dinner or you'd rather lounge here for a little longer?", she asked.

Behind her petite frame, just a couple of feet away, stood Theo and Luna, and with them was Harry.

Her boyfriend was staring at her looking thoroughly amused, and only then Pansy realized that she was still hugging Blaise, who was smirking at her from his 6' feet of height. "If Potter arrests me it'll be worth it, I finally conquered the almighty Pansy Parkinson", he teased, mercilessly, though it was obvious without a doubt to the Slytherin crowd that he was joking.

Zabini was referring to the time he'd actually tried to hit on her during their fifth year at Hogwarts, right before he'd been found himself tangled up in his massive crush for one Ginny Weasley, back when Pansy had been playing for the other team.

Not that she wasn't _still_ attracted to women, she just happened to love Harry _now_ and probably _forever_ : over the years, as she'd grown out of the Pureblood heiress and into the _Pansy Parkinson, citizen of the world_ , that she was today, the witch had simply realized that she fell in love with someone's mind rather than their sexual identity.

" _Sod off_ , Blaise", she scoffed, pushing on his side to distance himself from the wizard, but laughing. "You're still not my type", she reminded him, jokingly.

"That's simply not possible. _I'm everybody's type_ ", he replied, suavely.

Pansy's comeback was cut off by the rest of the group starting to move towards the dining room, and she found herself at the end of the line of people, grinning like an idiot.

She had always admired Zabini's confidence, but sometimes the size of his ego was simply _hilarious_.

As soon as anybody had taken their seat, people noticed there was something amiss: there were many more chairs than there were guests.

"Are we waiting for someone else?", Harry inquired.

"Not someone that isn't already on these grounds", Hermione icily replied.

There was a glint of mischief in the smile on her face and that was all the confirmation Pansy needed to do her math and realize her best friend was up to something.

Whatever that was, she knew it was bound to be entertaining.

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And entertaining it was, when it was time for the dessert and the main door opened, allowing access to a horde of House-Elves who entered the dining room and claimed ownership of the empty chairs.

Their uniforms were in different shades of blue, from Prussian to turquoise, and they were all shifting nervously on their seats, alternating their questioning and somewhat scared glances between the Nott siblings.

A petite Elf with long ears and a crown of white flowers sitting on top of her head was the first to find the courage to speak. "Miss Eloise, Praline has brought the other Elves here like Miss asked. I hope that's fine with Master Theo?", she asked.

Pansy thought Theo was about to spill the wine he was drinking, because he turned red and gulped audibly. " _I- Umh-_ ", he stuttered. " _Hermione_ told you to come here?"

"Affirmative, Master. _Miss Eloise_ told us to come here to eat the cake", the poor little thing replied, putting particular emphasis on the appellative of her mistress, which from the corner of her eye she could see it clearly bothered Hermione.

The witch was taking more time than she'd initially anticipated to come to terms with her new-found heritage, but Pansy couldn't really blame her for it: they had a similar history, the two of them, casted away from their parents shortly after reaching the legal age and fending for themselves ever since.

"And cake you shall eat", Hermione interrupted the exchange. "I hope there isn't a problem with me extending the invitation to our Elves?", she prompted, a triumphant smirk beginning to form on her lips.

"Master Theo has a problem with Rico being here?", a different Elf spoke up, looking thoroughly upset, and Pansy felt the sudden urge to hug him. "Rico didn't mean to offend Master. Rico is very sorry".

Theo gave him a pitiful smile. "That's fine, Ricochet", he said. "Sit back on your chair and enjoy your cake. There is nothing you should apologize for. You are more than welcome to join our meal".

Following the conversation like it was a tennis-match, Pansy stopped looking at Theodore and glanced at her best friend, who looked very pleased with her brother, but also ashamed, if the blush on cheeks was anything to go by.

Hermione recovered quickly, though, and introduced every Elf to the guests and _vice-versa_ with her usual _savoir-faire_.

How she could remember all their names after supposedly meeting them just today Pansy wasn't sure, but she and the rest of the human crowd were grateful they all sported a little plate on their chest, right underneath the Nott crest, that helped identifying everyone.

"Which point where you trying to prove, Hermione?", Theo added, casually, linking eyes with his sister's. "That I'm a _monster_ or something? Did you think I would throw a fit over having them here?"

"It was a possibility I took into consideration, honestly", she fired back. "I just wanted to be sure you understood how serious I am about the whole situation".

"Trust me, Hermione, I did", he replied, rather harshly, and Pansy could tell he was about to lose his infamous temper. "Perhaps you should give a little credit to someone who isn't _yourself_ every once in a while".

With that, Theo broke the eye-contact and started eating his cake, sulking, while his sister looked torn between being proud of him and feeling offended by his attitude.

She seemed to opt for a mix of both, because she simply raised her glass of wine and sent a toast in his direction.

From that point on the party reached its peek and slowly started to die out.

Despite the Elves turning out to be a nice addition, entertaining the guests with incredible stories from their everyday life and showcasing a pranking wildness you wouldn't traditionally expect from them, the tension between the siblings eventually made the air unbreathable, and one by one people started to take their leave, promising to see everyone else very soon and wishing each other a goodnight.

The first to leave were Daphne and Astoria, who departed from Nott Manor around 11 p.m. They both thanked their cousins again for having them for the night, and Pansy felt slightly guilty when they said it was nice to have a night out.

When it was up to her to organize a gathering among the old Slytherin crowd (and occasionally the new Gryffindor additions), she usually left the Greengrass sisters out of the picture, and on purpose: she wasn't very close with her ex anymore, and conversations between them always carried out rather awkwardly; on the other hand Astoria, whom she adored, simply didn't get an invitation because otherwise she would either show up with her older sibling or tell her about it, complicating the already fragile connection still left between them.

Now that she wasn't fake-dating Theo, however, perhaps it was time to stop holding a grudge about past events and start looking towards the future.

The second person to reach the floo and disappear in a twirl of green flames was Blaise, around half an hour later, who refused Theodore's invitation to stay longer and have some drinks and apologized for how hastily he was leaving after such a nice evening.

He wanted to call Ginny on the phone before she went to sleep, which was oddly sweet on his part; her friend had been a serial womanizer for most of the time she'd known him, which was approximately twenty years out of their twenty-three of age, and it was nice to see him so committed to a relationship.

As the witching hour was approaching, Harry and Pansy grabbed their share of floo-powder, too, and stepped into the chimney so that they could travel to her apartment, where they'd planned to spend the night.

"I'll see you tomorrow", the witch greeted Hermione, as they'd plans for going shopping the following morning, before pulling her into a bear hug. "Before then, do nothing I wouldn't do and everything I would", she warned her, hoping she would get the hint she was trying to send her away, somewhere along the lines of ' _Go easy on him'_.

If the glances they'd exchanged after her little Elf-shaped surprise were to take into account, there was no doubt an argument was about to happen between the Nott siblings.

Pansy hoped it wasn't going to be too harsh, for neither of them: they both needed the other in their life more than they probably realized, but she was sure their relationship was bound to flourish as soon as they managed to deal with all the ghosts from their pasts.

"It's been a pleasure, Nott", she absent-mindedly heard Harry say as he shook hands with the wizard, half inside the floo and half outside of it. "I'll do a little research tomorrow at work, I want to see where the order to question you came from", he added in his best friend's direction, waving his hand at her one last time before settling himself for the magical ride.

As the twirl of green flames engulfed them both, Pansy could see the circumstantial smile on the face of both Notts turning to ice.

Indeed, an argument was bound to happen.

* * *

Two hours later Hermione was laying on the king-size bed in her room in Nott Manor, tossing and turning in unease.

Theo had refused to talk with her about her little stunt with the Elves, locking himself up in his personal studio as soon as Harry and Pansy had disappeared inside the floo, and she wasn't going to make a second attempt.

She didn't mean to openly distrust him, but the two of them had been raised with very different principles, and not by the same people, and she had needed to make sure their different upbringings weren't going to be a problem, because she wasn't going to stand for _slavery_.

Perhaps she needed to tone down her methods a little, and she made a mental note to remember that for the future, but she wasn't sorry for what she'd done.

She just felt guilty because her brother had been hurt by it.

An unexpected loud noise interrupted her trail of thoughts and with a sigh she moved her eyes away from the ceiling, where she was sure a hole was about to appear from how hard she'd stared it.

She sat up on the bed and listened to the silence for a minute or two, but when no other sound came, she decided to attribute the first one to an open window and the end-of-summer wind, or did the Manor have a cat?

Whatever the perfectly logical explanation was (she was an adult woman who'd taken part in a war of all things, she definitely wasn't easily impressionable), Hermione now needed the bathroom, _again_ , so she mentally prepared for the coldness of the floor and got up on her feet.

Picking up her wand (she wasn't scared of the dark, or of the big bad empty house, but she'd indeed fought in a war), the witch took the steps necessary to reach the door, paying attention to closing it as gracefully as she could behind her back.

She was yet to receive the complete house-tour of the Nott estate in Dorset, so she didn't really know if the east wing inhabited by the Elves was close by or if there was anyone else she could have bothered by producing too much noise.

Obviously, the quickest way to go about her bladder problem would have been to use the bathroom that was in her bedroom, but that wouldn't have allowed her to check if Theo was still in his personal studio or not.

The last and only time she'd ventured out of the room after retiring for the night, light leaked from behind the closed mahogany door, but considering the late hour perhaps it was time to knock on it and talk with her brother about tonight, otherwise they were probably both not going to get much sleep.

It looked like Theo had mastered the ability of staying mad and holding a grudge just as much as she did, and she wondered if that was by chance or maybe it had to do with the DNA they shared.

She strolled down the hallways she'd memorized just that afternoon, shivering in her silver silk pyjama-set and cursing herself for not taking the time to search for some slippers, all the while thanking whoever took care of cleaning the Manor, as the floors were pristine and she really didn't want to dirty up her feet too much by walking shoe-less.

Reaching the point of the corridor where Theodore's personal studio was located, she narrowed her eyes when she noticed the light was now off, and the door ajar.

Apparently, she was forced to go back to the original plan: talking to her brother in the morning, and hopefully sort this whole mess up.

Hermione was about to turn on her heels and return to her room, when her brain reminded her she could really use a glass of water, especially in consideration of the alcohol she'd been drinking over dinner.

Her reckless lifestyle was bound to catch up with her at some point, probably soon after her thirties, but the only thing she could bring herself to do right now was to keep herself properly hydrated.

From there on her route was made of guesses and lucky breaks, but in about ten minutes she was triumphally drinking her second glass of water, and physically feeling a whole lot better.

On the way back to her room, however, at some point she'd taken the wrong turn, and now she was helplessly wandering through the ground floor.

As the witch was about to surrender and perform a Four-Point spell in the weak hope that knowing where the north was could help her reach her destination, the unmistakable sound of people laughing came to her from the left.

Then, as many years fighting the forces of evil in the company of one Harry Potter had taught her, she did the only thing she could think of: go straight to the source of the noise, no matter if it could be a trap or an ambush (funnily enough, the odds were always against them).

Trusting her sense of hearing, Hermione Granger found herself in the middle of one of the main corridors, and it was already a victory, because from there she knew exactly how to return to her room.

But she didn't do that. The voices were now growing closer and louder, and without even thinking about it she positioned herself behind the velvet curtain that acted as a passage from the hallway to what Theo had described as the _informal_ living room during his speedy tour of the main features of Nott Manor.

Eavesdropping wasn't a habit she particularly loved indulging in, but it had proven itself extremely useful in the past – like when she'd discovered the man she'd just drunkenly married was trying to screw her – and if there was one thing she couldn't control about herself, that was her curiosity.

" _Jeez_ , I needed that. Thank you, mate", said her brother from inside the living room, barely managing to articulate the words between one burst of laughter and the other. "You're right. I'm making this a lot bigger than it really is. She doesn't _really_ hate me, does she?"

Hermione wasn't sure the question was rhetorical, and it hurt more than she cared to admit: she wasn't used to having a brother (not really, not yet), but she hoped they could get past their argument in a reasonable amount of time.

Apparently, Theodore was hurting, too, and that didn't sit well with her.

"How can you think that?", asked a voice she immediately recognized. "Your sister _adores_ you, Theo. Stop being so bloody paranoid about loosing her and start enjoying the time you spend with her", Draco drawled, and if only she wasn't currently undercover and eavesdropping on them, she would have come out of her hiding spot and hugged him.

She heard the noise of glasses clattering, more laughter, some muffled words. "We totally shouldn't be drinking this", giggled Theo with conspiracy tone.

"Why is that?", came from his partner in crime.

"My dad was saving it…", her brother trailed off, and Hermione imagined he was showing some kind of bottle to his friend.

 _Absolutely fantastic_.

Now she was craving a drink, too. On top of that, there was a part of her that really needed to know what Cantankerus Nott's _good stuff_ tasted like.

She was considering to stop hiding and join the pair in the living room, perhaps have a drink or two with them and hopefully fix things with Theo, when the two Slytherins started talking again, and the subject of their conversation glued her feet to where she was standing on the marble floor, still completely hidden from their view.

"I still don't understand the little stunt she pulled", Theo sighed. "It's like she expects me to turn into our father and go full-on _Death Eater_ on her. Something that I would never, not in a million years, do. Not to her, not to anybody else".

"Hermione Granger is not scared of Death Eaters", Draco countered. "What she needs is for you to show her that you're here to stay, but you can't blame her if it takes time for her to trust you. She's been alone for a very long time, and you know how Gryffindors are…"

The witch couldn't hear the rest of his sentence, but jokes aside, what Malfoy was saying was true, and surprisingly insightful.

She hadn't shared many details of her life in Australia with the blond man, and her loneliness definitely didn't belong to the lot.

"Salazar, you're right! I have to talk to her as soon as possible and fix this mess. You know what? For someone who used to hate her guts, you pay an _awful_ lot of attention to my sister, mate", Theo said, and though the choice of wording sounded extremely casual, the overtones were incredibly _loud_.

* * *

" _…You pay an awful lot of attention to my sister, mate_ ".

Draco was frozen on the spot. He felt like his best friend had just slapped him in the face.

When exactly had he stopped being the smartest and more cunning among his friends?

First, Zabini had taken a risk _against_ his advice and got richer in the process, even if he didn't know about it yet, and now, Theo was asking the _only_ question he wasn't supposed to formulate.

 _When had Draco Malfoy forgotten the art of subtlety?_

The wizard was regretting his choice to come over for some late night drinks, but he'd actually missed spending time with his best friend lately, and once his daughter had fallen asleep he'd answered his text and taken the floo without thinking about it twice.

It had looked like something was wrong with Theo, and he'd been more than willing to provide his help and council, perhaps even managing to milk some information about his sister in the process by getting him drunk.

It was an old, consolidated Slytherin technique that never once had failed him: not until now, at least, because if Nott was drunk, Draco wasn't exactly sober, either, and what was supposed to be a discreet research was turning into his own interrogatory.

Too often he forgot that almost all his friends belonged to Slytherin, too. Just as much as he did.

" _Oh, I- Umh. What do you mean?_ ", he eventually managed to articulate.

Theo merely smirked in reply and took the glass he was holding from his hands to give him a refill, then proceeded to do the same with his own.

The two men drank their _Fishy Drink Ale_ in a silence that felt extremely uncomfortable and unnatural to Draco: the eye-contact was getting awkward, and he could sense the warmth now spreading on his cheeks.

He was mentally thanking the alcohol for covering up his humanity when Theo finished his glass in one gulp, hastily set it down on the coffee table in front of him and smiled devilishly at him.

" ** _Do you have a crush on my sister, mate?_** "

Draco gulped. _How was he supposed to get himself out of this?_

He couldn't lie, because that was the man he'd practically shared all his life with, and he could tell if he was not being honest.  
 _  
But he couldn't tell him the truth, either, could he?_

He had a deal with Hermione about keeping the fact they were dating private (with the exception of Pansy, it seemed), and he knew how spiteful she could get if someone didn't stand by their word.

 _I'm screwed_ – was his only coherent thought before he nodded, almost imperceptibly and only once.

Then he squared his jaw and raised his chin, finished his drink and extended his arm, offering the empty glass to his friend so that he could refill it.

Theo said nothing as he did so, just kept grinning like an idiot and staring into his eyes. "I'll take that as a yes?", he then offered, tentatively, as he returned the glass.

Draco nodded again. "It's _complicated_ ", he started, but Nott waved him off.

"It's cool, mate. _I get it_. I mean, my sister's _beautiful_ ", he reassured him, "And _so_ clever… And _powerful_ , and _rich_. She's a _war_ _heroine_ and the closest thing to an _Enchantress_ you will find nowadays. I knew this was bound to happen the moment I knew who she was. My friends crushing on her, that is".

"Cool", Draco repeated, not sure of what to do of the other's rambling. "Your point?"

"I'm just stating facts", Theo replied, his smirk half-hidden behind his _Fishy Drink Ale_. "Like, I can hear _Karma_ laughing at you right now, and it's hilarious".

That's when the blond realized that his friend's intention wasn't to question him, but to _make fun_ of him.

Not very lucidly, Draco decided he could humor him a little. "I wonder what _her_ Karma would think of all this", he said.

"It could even trump the glorious day she punched you and broke your nose", Theo recalled, looking way too amused by the situation.

Not that he could blame him, considering how much of a jackass he'd been to the witch in question during his youth.

He still couldn't believe she was giving him a chance, albeit reluctantly.

Fancying Hermione Granger was something he'd learnt to deal with a long time before, although his feelings had always remained unvoiced, but for the girl to actually reciprocate said fascination and going out with him, it was something he still couldn't wrap his head around.

 _What could he possibly offer her?_

 _Money_ she had plenty on her own, and she was as far as you could possibly imagine from the gold-digging type, in any case.

 _Time_ he had very little, considering he was a single father and he spent most of his free-time with his daughter – not to mention the fact he knew that despite men with child were generally regarded as attractive, very few women (and even fewer witches) had the patience and a heart big enough to merely _care_ for a child they hadn't birthed.

Lost in his thoughts, it took a little time for Draco to realize Theo was still waiting for an answer.

Unfortunately, he found himself deprived of anything that sounded even remotely witty, sarcastic or even decent. "That hurt way more than the Hippogriff, so with all things considered I'd say I learnt my lesson", he said, nervously scratching the back of his head.

"You couldn't look at her for months after that", the other pressed. "But at least you stopped taunting her more frequently than you changed your underwear".

"I'll have you know that I changed my underwear very often, mate", Draco sneered.

"My point exactly", Theo grinned. "You know that muggle theory according to which little boys who pull the braids of little girls are actually trying to get their attention in a romantic way, although unknowingly and unconsciously?"

The blond nodded at that, but the expression on his face was far from sure. "So?"

"So, I think it's _bullshit_. You don't mistreat a girl if you like her, end of the story. That being said, I also think the past it's in the past, and as long as it remains there, it is of far less importance than the present moment. You're hardly the same person you were five or ten years ago, and this applies to both you and my sister in equal measure. If you get her to look at you that way, you have my blessing to pursue your interest for her", the raven-haired wizard confessed. "Not that someone needs my permission to date her. What I mean is that I won't stand in your way if you do, mate. Not as long as you don't toy with her".

"I would never do that", Draco affirmed, and the outrage in his voice was honest. "Look, Theo. I have a daughter. She's still little and there's plenty of time before she gets interested in boys or boys get interested in her, but when they do… I would never treat your sister or every other woman with less respect than I hope it'll be shown to Adhara when the time comes".

"You don't need to reassure me, Draco. I trust you, that's why I suggest you go for it, if your interest is more than platonic", Nott said before returning his attention to his glass, which he emptied and filled for the third (and hopefully the last) time.

That was point where Draco, standing in the middle of a crossroad, had to take a massive decision: was it better for him to be honest and tell his best friend the truth, that he'd already been involved with his sister for a little while now and that he'd never felt so intensely taken with another woman before, but that it was still soon to put labels on their relationship, especially considering he still hadn't discussed his feelings with Hermione herself; or was he supposed to keep quiet and speak with the witch before revealing the secret they shared?

In the ten seconds between this realization and the moment he opened his mouth to talk again, ready to surrender and empty his bag, two things happened: Theo hiccupped so loud it made him jump on his seat and, simultaneously, Hermione stepped out of the shadows and into the informal living room, barefoot and wearing nothing but a silky pyjama.

 _Talking about the devil_.

"Forgive me, guys. I heard some noises and I wanted to check out if everything was fine", the witch started to apologize, but her brother cut her off.

"We're the ones who should be asking forgiveness. I'm sorry we interrupted your sleep", he managed to articulate, although it was pretty clear that putting together the sentence had taken some effort on his part.

The man was barely holding himself together, and the fact he was trying so hard to look sober only accentuated his drunkenness.

"You don't need to worry about that. I wasn't sleeping", Hermione promptly reassured him. "I wanted some water and I successfully found the kitchen. I couldn't hear you from my room. I mean, you're not the reason I wasn't sleeping".

She seemed to be walking on thorns just as much as Theo was, and for the first time Draco noticed just how similar the two were, even though they performed those similarities very differently: both were terrorized at the idea of the other thinking badly of him, yet they put distance between each other by either retiring into themselves (Hermione) or resorting to anger (Nott).

"Oh. Oh, that's good", Theo babbled. "Here, let me make some room for you-", he proposed, but in the act of moving himself to an extremity of the sofa the wizard tripped on himself and banged his head on the coffee table.

Theodore was successful in getting up by himself, but dazed because of his confrontation with the wooden surface. " _Ouch_ ", he screeched.

There was no visible cut nor he was losing blood, but the expression on his face was one of excruciating pain. " _Oi_ , mate", Draco called out for him. "Are you good?"

"What do you think?", the other barked. _"Fuck._ It hurts so fucking much", he whined.

If he didn't know better, Draco would have thought the glacial Theodore Nott was about to cry. "Yeah, I can imagine", he complied. "Sorry".

"Well, that was pretty _clumsy_ ", Hermione observed, reaching the couch and grabbing a hold on her brother's hands, which were currently clutching at his head. Moving them away from the injured part, she waved her wand a couple of times, without saying a word, and the sheer, silver light coming out of it seemed to be taking care of whatever the problem was, because Theo sighed in relief and leaned back on his seat with a content smile. "Is it any better now?", she asked, very gently.

"Never felt better in my life", her brother exhaled, as if he was thoroughly enjoying himself. "What was that?", he then inquired about the spell just performed on him.

"And advanced Healing Charm that was probably too strong for the matter at hand, but I'm no Healer and you know what they say, it's better safe than sorry", the witch reasoned. "The fact you are drunk isn't exactly ideal, it's just like with muggle medicines. Collateral damage and all that jazz".

"I'm not drunk!", Theo protested, pouting just a little too much for it to be subtle.

Right now his best friend looked like a very young teenager caught drunk by a Professor, and it was hilarious to watch for Draco, who hadn't been drinking nearly as much since instead of a fancy party he'd eaten his dinner at home, where Lucius was rather jealous of his booze and generally only invited his wife for a drink after supper.

"Yes, you are. Don't waste my time or yours trying to deny it. If you were sober you would have never crashed so gracelessly on the coffee table", Hermione admonished him.

Theo opened his mouth to protest, but she waved him off.

" _While sitting_ ", she added, and the smirk on her lips was the perfect picture of victory.

"Fine… _I'm drunk_. I don't even know why I was trying to hide it. It's not like you can ground me or anything", Nott muttered, and when Hermione raised a daring eyebrow he returned the smirk. "I hardly drink half the stuff you do, sister. Let's _not_ do the math this time".

"That's not what I was suggesting. With your current state and the medication you've received… You should pass away in approximately ten to fifteen minutes. I would recommend you're in your bed by then, because you will _trip_ , brother".

"I don't think I'm capable of walking right now", was all he replied while theatrically bringing a hand to his forehead. "What if I fall down the stairs?"

"You probably wouldn't feel the pain", the witch shrugged. "Seriously, Theo, you need to sleep on that spell. We should definitely have you checked up at St. Mungo's first thing tomorrow morning".

"Good luck waking him up", intervened Draco, who was slightly more aware of Theo's sleeping habits than she was: for as long as he'd known him, the wizard slept as much as he could and not _one_ minute less. "Besides, what's the point of your sister having super powers when you still have to go to Healers like a common wizard?"

"I have no super power", she huffed, clearly more upset by his joke than he'd ever intended for her to be. "What I have and the rest of the world does not is mere dedication. Anyone else could have come to the same conclusions I did".

"But that never happened. Perhaps nobody else ever asked the same questions you did, then", the blond suggested, and his shoulders relaxed a little when he spotted the tiny smile sitting on the corner of her lips.

It was a pity her brother was in the room and he couldn't kiss her.

"Perhaps you're right", Hermione said, giving no sign to be willing to continue down that path.

Not that he could blame her for not wanting to share intel about the secret discovery that had made her the richest and most influential woman alive – currently and ever; she was probably already stalked day and night by people curious about it, and he wasn't going to put himself on that list.

Of course, Draco would have liked to know.

But his life until now had progressed just fine (more or less) without doing so, and he was perfectly happy with continuing that way if it meant keeping her around _and_ in his life.

Slytherins were ambitious to the core, but they were also awfully loyal to those they cared about: it just wasn't something they liked people from outside their House to know about.

"Come on, Theo. You're going to bed now", Hermione imperiously announced. She tried to physically remove her brother from the couch and miserably failed before her eyes met his and she subtly nodded in the direction of Theodore's (now unconscious) form. "A little help here?"

Returning to reality, Draco promptly set out in helping her with the tedious task.

People who got so drunk they couldn't get themselves to bed were simply _the worst_ , but he owed Theo from the one or two times he'd done the same for him.

Besides, he loved his best friend too much to mercilessly apply to him the same filters he used to judge other people.

* * *

Putting Theo to bed and make sure he wasn't going to suffocate in his own vomit took the pair more time than they'd anticipated.

For instance, carrying him to his bedroom on the third floor was the easiest part of the entire process.

Around the time his head had touched the pillow and his sister was busy removing his shoes, the man had returned to his senses and babbled something that was meant only for Draco, but because of the silence in the room, interrupted only by the sound of the three of them breathing, his message came out loud and clear.

"Remember what I said, mate. _Life's short_ , _take your chances_ ", Theo encouraged him, cobalt blue eyes sparkling behind the long eyelashes and a sleepy grin on his lips.

Then he rolled to one side, not bothering to actually put himself under the covers, and drifted back to sleep with a loud and not-so-elegant snort.

Draco watched as Hermione grabbed a blanket from a nearby chair and draped it on top of her brother's sleeping body, leaning on to place a soft kiss on his forehead. "Sweet dreams, big brother", she whispered.

As she made sure all the windows were properly closed, reality finally caught up with the blond: how much had she heard of their conversation before entering the room?

Asking the witch didn't sound like a very good option, but it was the only one available to him.

He couldn't very well use _Legilimency_ on her, could he?

It didn't matter how good he was at it: not only there was no way he could take a peek in the head of the brightest witch of their generation without her noticing, he also knew that with someone like Hermione Granger, an action of that kind was most definitely a deal-breaker.

She didn't trust easily nowadays, but for some reason she'd decided to give him the benefit of the doubt, and Draco wasn't going to risk it.

He wanted something _serious_ with her, and that wasn't the proper way to go about it.

On top of that, he wasn't as selfish or morally deviant as he used to be.

He knew it was _wrong_ to do something like that, and that was enough reason for the new and improved Draco Malfoy to _not_ do something.

As cheesy as that sounded.

"Are you coming?", Hermione called from the door, where she was leaning against the jamb with her arms crossed in front of her chest.

He'd seen her wearing more revealing and fashionable clothes, but even with the silky pyjama with chaste t-sleeves and loose-fit pants she looked just as gorgeous to him.

He was mature enough to know her appearance was only a small part of the reason he was so into this girl: there was something about _who she was_ that just kept dragging his attention to her.

"Yeah, sure", he nodded, stiffly.

Now he just had to figure out how much of _her_ attention he'd managed to capture.

As soon as they walked out of Theo's room, Draco made to turn towards the hallway on their left, which would have lead him to the nearest floo he could use to travel back to Malfoy Manor, but Hermione grabbed one of his hands and gestured for him to stop.

"You obviously know this place much better than I do", she said. A fairly simple statement. " _Would you_ mind- I mean, _can you_ \- _Uh_ , _will you_ stay here tonight? With me? I don't want to sleep alone. I don't think _I can_ ", she added, quite frantically, when he didn't reply right away.

The witch was clearly at unease, embarrassment written all over her face, and she looked like she genuinely would have preferred to disappear into the ground rather than keep looking at him in the eyes.

"No, Granger", he started, and the more Slytherin part of him appreciated the horror that crossed her features for just about a second. "I wouldn't mind. I can and, as a matter of fact, I will", Draco said, lowering his voice until it reached the husky tone that women, for reasons he couldn't comprehend, seemed to enjoy. "Your room is in that direction, by the way", he added, pointing his finger at the hallway opposite from where she was standing.

Hermione didn't say anything in reply, merely following him as he took the right path, which prompted the wizard to really pay attention to the current situation.

"You've never been here, have you?", he asked, extending an arm to hug her as they walked.

The former Gryffindor was uncertain as she took her steps, and she kept turning her head to every side as if desperately trying to memorize the entire floorplan. "Today was the first time", she confessed, with a voice so small he wasn't entirely sure she'd really talked. "I've always come up with an excuse not to come to this place. If Theo didn't take advantage of my state of distress this afternoon, there was a good chance I was never going to. I don't know why", she trailed off, her gaze nervously drifting around his face. "I guess I really don't like _Manors_ ", she grimaced.

"Why would you want a Manor when you have your own _island_ , am I right?", he tried to ease the tension, but Pandora's vase was already open and there was no way they could go to sleep without addressing the giant elephant with rainbow-coloured wings her last sentence had just materialized in the room.

"I guess you're right", Hermione agreed, but she sounded like someone had just flipped a bucket of ice over her head. "I prefer modern architecture, anyway".

"I had no doubt", Draco simply replied, stopping in front of one of the chestnut doors. "I think it's this one", he added, pointing at it.

The woman didn't say anything to that, preceding him in entering her personal bedroom inside the walls of Nott Manor: the thought still weirded him out a little, so he could only imagine how she was probably feeling.

"Wait a second", he stopped her as she started making her way to the bed. Covering the short distance between them in just a couple steps, Draco grabbed her by the chin and gently, yet firmly, forced her to look at him in the eyes. She was never going to sleep if she closed her eyes while in that emotional condition. "No way a girl is getting into bed with Draco Malfoy without a smile on her face", he smirked.

" _Humble_ much?", she snorted, but the corners of her mouth were bending upwards, and that was a signal positive enough for him to circle her small frame with both arms and hold her tight to his chest.

"It's going to be _ok_ ", he murmured in her right ear as his hand caressed her hair. The former Slytherin wasn't exactly experienced when it came to comforting people in their time of need, plus it had been some time since he'd lastly been occupied in such activity. "Your job, Theo, the Grangers, your enemies. _Everything_ 's going to be fine".

After that, it didn't take long for the pair to crawl into bed.

Between her schedule and the fact he had a daughter, it was the first time they simply lied next to each other on the mattress, waiting for sleep to come and get them instead of collapsing, nearly exhausted, at the end of intercourse.

The warmth of another body underneath the cool sheets was a feeling he'd missed, but also one he'd never experienced with such intensity.

He was looking forward to what the next month was going to bring for the two of them: she was going to return to Australia for some time coming the end of October, but hopefully, by then, Draco would have been able to take the next step in their relationship: calling Hermione Granger his girlfriend.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.  
Hello, lovelies!  
I hope you're having a great day/night wherever you are and that you enjoyed what you just read in this chapter. Surprise update because tonight airs the final episode ever of Game of Thrones and I already know I'm not going to like it and I'll probably be overly sad about it in the next days. :))

So far, this chapter has been the one who's taken me the most time to write.  
The main plot of the story is finally starting to kick in ('twas about time, right?) and the characters get more and more absorbed into their personal relationships.

 _I wonder what could possibly be under the corner that it's going to mess things up a little_...

Not-so-subtle spoilers aside, thank you for reading yet another chapter of my story. It was supposed to be a lot smaller when I started writing it, but somehow it just kept expanding over and over again.

I guess we'll see where the ride takes us.  
I hope you really do have an amazing week and please, if you want, let me know what you think! :)

 _p.s._ The first chapter has been finally revisioned and I personally think it's a lot better this way. It's already online in case you want to check it out.

 _p.p.s. How many here cheering for the Mother of Dragons like me, by the way?_


	25. FETISH

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **25.**

 **FETISH**

 **.**

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 ** _( Diagon Alley: The Time Warp,  
Fashion for all Occasions – London, England  
September 25th, 2003, around 11:00 a.m. )_**

* * *

Buying a gown for an event wasn't normally a big deal for Hermione, who in her life had chosen, tried on, purchased and wore thousands of them.

Today, however, Pansy's advice always went against her personal preference, and even the addition of Narcissa's serene presence was doing nothing to mitigate her nerves.

She'd been working on launching _MagiTech_ in England for over six months now, and the clock was mercilessly ticking: everything needed to be perfect, herself included, and so did the dress (well, dresses) she was going to wear: she already knew which one she was going to appear inside of at the after party, but so far she had no clue as to when she was going to find the appropriate outfit for the main portion of the event, which included the red carpet and the official presentation, and the witch was slowly but surely losing her patience.

That morning Hermione had already tried many gowns on, and she was pretty sure the retailer lady, Summer, was growing tired with searching for new propositions: the black one was too revealing and the red one was too bold, while the platinum silver one made her look like she was trying too hard (or the cheap version of a bride).

"Why can't you just make me a dress like you always do?", she asked Pansy for the umpteenth time.

"I'm not doing this again", the brunette scoffed, placing two more beautiful garments on her arm and gesturing towards the changing room. "My brand launches before yours, Hermione. Right now I have to focus on _Obsidian Couture_ and at the moment I can't possibly make you something that's _wow_ enough for the occasion. This once you're going to have to suck it up and wear something that wasn't designed by me".

"I didn't feel _wow_ in any of those", Hermione countered from behind the separé, sending a menacing look at the clothes scattered all over the small space.

If Summer didn't already hate her for the attitude, she definitely was going to hate her for the mess she'd caused in the fitting room.

Fighting fiercely with the zipper, the witch managed to secure the black, form-fitting velvet to her body. "Too short, I think?"

"Your legs look amazing in that", her best friend said when she came to her view. "But yeah, it's too short. That's why you're wearing it for _OC_ 's party".

Narcissa smiled politely in her direction. "You do look really beautiful with that dress, though it's definitely on the provocative side", she commented, and Hermione valued the woman's opinion enough to give it a second look. The boutique was one the blonde witch had personally recommended and an old-time favourite of hers, after all.

Placing herself in front of the mirror, Hermione took a deep breath before critically assessing her appearance.

The off-the-shoulders neckline hugged her chest really nicely and the fabric was very light on the skin, but not sheer; the deep black of the material was embellished with tiny silver glitters that shined following the way she moved under the artificial lights of the shop. "I like this one", she offered to Summer with a tentative smile.

"And we are _so glad_ about that", the girl replied, curving the corners of her lips in a very unnatural smile. She was clearly doing her best to make her client happy, but two hours after they'd entered the shop she'd only decided on one dress, and it wasn't even the one the trio had come into the boutique for.

Having one of your creations on a red carpet was a big achievement for a designer and there was no doubt her superiors were going to put a lot of pressure into her, one way or another: she could either seal the deal and be praised or let them walk away without a gown, lose the important job for _The Time Warp_ and possibly get fired in the process.

Hermione felt sorry for the girl: it didn't look like she had a precise idea of who she or Pansy were when they'd first entered the boutique, and it was clear she'd been trying to fill the gaps on her own over the last two hours, and with very little success.

Summer wasn't much younger than her, but she was sure she'd never seen her in Hogwarts, so she could be the case of an extreme make-over, or simply someone who'd been educated in another wizarding institute.

She was fairly acquainted with Narcissa, though, which was a bit odd.

"Summer, _dear_ ", Mrs. Malfoy called. "Why don't you take me to the back of the store and let me see what you've been working on recently? Meanwhile Ms. Granger could try on the pink dress, perhaps?"

Hermione snorted, but she returned to the fitting room without any remark with Pansy following closely behind her.

"Go easy on the poor kid. She's doing her best", the Slytherin suggested as soon as they were out of ear-reach. "What's up with you today, anyway? You've never been so impossible to style for even when we had a two-hundred dollars budget and you walked the carpet with needles keeping your dress together".

Gently zipping up the salmon pink garment that was left for her to try, it took only one look for her to know that it was most definitely not what she was going to wear for her big night: the colour wasn't particularly flattering on her skin-tone, and the shape weirdly resembled that of a meringue.

Pansy seemed to agree, because she added: "That dress is hideous on you".

"Trust me, I can see that for myself", Hermione replied, eyeing the evil dress in the mirror. She was usually rather confident about the way she looked, but right now she resembled a four-year-old pretending to be a princess, and it was taking a temporary hit on her self-esteem.

Definitely not the best conditions for shopping.

Luckily the door to the back of the store opened, and Narcissa stepped out of it, triumphally holding a sketch in her hand. "Excuse me if I'm over-stepping, but I believe I found what you're looking for".

 _What a_ fairy _godmother_.

With the unrealistic shade of blonde of her hair, it was legit to assume she had Veela blood running in her veins, after all.

The older witch smiled encouragingly, handing the sheet of paper to Hermione. "No witch has been seen wearing this colour in a formal event since 1977, if the information in my possession is correct".

At this point her expectations were almost as high as her hopes of being done with her shopping very soon. Grabbing the sketch, the woman lowered her eyes on it and found a pleasant surprise: it really was a beautiful garment, elaborate enough to make a statement, but somehow still sober, tasteful.

It was an ice blue taffeta dream: the dress was off-the-shoulders just like the other one she'd decided to purchase, minus the long sleeves; from the drawing it looked like it was very structured on the waist, a shape of gown she personally enjoyed wearing, and the skirt was built so that it cascaded on the sides while still looking pretty voluminous, with a single slit that stopped just a couple inches beneath the crotch area.

It was the perfect mixture of daring and innocent, and she had no doubt that if realized as portrayed in the sketch, it was going to take many breaths away (Malfoy included, hopefully).

"It's... _perfect_ ", she admitted after what felt like a century, and she followed with her eyes as all the muscles in Summer's body simultaneously relaxed before an expression of incertitude took over her face.

"I'm not exactly authorized to present my designs to clients…", the blonde started. "I can sew you the dress, but it won't be labelled as if you bought it here at the boutique".

"Surely your boss won't be mad you managed to sell one of your dresses?", Narcissa inquired, from where she sat on one of the armchairs with timeless grace. The way the older woman moved really was mesmerizing, as if dictated by the most precise puppeteer in the world. "There has never been a problem with it in the past. You sewed half my purchases over the past couple of years".

"I know, _Aunt Cissa_ , but those were exceptions", the other countered, biting her lower lip. "From what I've understood, Miss Granger is going to wear her dress for a big event, with a lot of press, and from what you've told me two minutes ago she's very famous here in England".

"People will want to copy whatever she wears", Pansy chimed in, keeping her eyes on the phone as she typed furiously on the touch-screen. "At some point someone is going to start asking who made her dress".

"Precisely my point", Summer nodded. "I'd really love to see my dress on a magazine, but I can't lose my job. You know it's the only reason the Minister allows me to stay. Technically, I'm an American witch", she added, addressing Narcissa once again.

"I know that, dear, I'm the one who got you that job", Mrs. Malfoy sighed. "Maybe if I spoke to Marcela again?"

"I'm afraid Ms. Warp will never go for it", the girl peeped, looking as if she was on the edge of tears. "As soon as she hears Hermione Granger was in her boutique she'll be _pissed_ if she didn't walk out with one of her designs".

Narcissa curled her nose at the choice of words but spoke no further.

"Then sew me this gown and I'll offer you a better job", Hermione proposed, willing to solve the situation as fast as possible and finally leave the shop and go get some lunch. "You can do with a potentially talented designer, right?", she asked Pansy, who just now stopped looking at her phone, sending an inquisitive look in Summer's direction.

"If your dress comes out the way she drawn it, I could definitely put her to good use at my atelier", the Slytherin confirmed.

"What do you say, Summer?", she asked with her best convincing smile.

" _I-_ I don't know what _-_ Are you saying I could actually _design_?"

"Yup", Pansy nodded affirmatively. "Do we have a deal?"

"Yes, _ma'am_. I can let you have the first fitting by the end of next week", the blonde accepted, excitedly. "Can you leave me an address or would you rather have me sort through this with Aunt Cissa?"

It was pretty clear the girl would have preferred the second option over the first one, but Hermione wasn't feeling too merciful that day. "I'll leave you my phone number. You said you're American, so I'm sure that if you don't already have one, you surely know how to find one".

Returning to the fitting room, the witch retrieved her purse and the pink dress she most definitely wasn't going to buy. "Here are my number and Pansy's, she has all my measurements and she usually styles all my looks, so she knows everything you may want to know", she said, picking up two small business cards and handing them over to the younger girl.

"I'll keep both of you informed on my progress", Summer replied, a little dumbstruck. "If there's anything else I could…?", she trailed off.

"I'd like to pay for the dress that we put aside earlier", Hermione prompted. "I don't know about you, ladies, but I'm famished", she added, talking to Pansy and Narcissa.

From there the quartet of women proceeded to where the cash register was located, and four minutes and three-hundred-fifty-seven Galleons later the witch could finally walk out of the store and breath in some fresh air.

Usually she didn't mind spending some of her time shopping (she still preferred libraries to clothing stores, though), but an entire morning was simply too much to handle for her nerves.

It was incredibly selfish, but there were times she missed the days Pansy's job was to take care of her wardrobe.

Every day, she missed the times she and Pansy were always side by side.

* * *

 ** _( Ministry of Magic, the Minister's office – London, England  
September 25th, 2003, around 11:30 a.m. )_**

* * *

After more than one year into his second term, Kingsley Shacklebolt finally understood why his mother had started to cry the first time he'd announced he was to be the next Minister of Magic, and why she'd shook her head in disapproval when he'd told the family that he'd been re-elected.

Trouble always came in _threes_ , and even if it was just eleven o'clock in the morning, the man had already prevented an international scandal involving the daughter of a foreign Minister and a member of the Wizengamot, and that after listening to another High Warlock who'd come to his office to denounce the fact and demand the wizard was removed from his position.

He'd managed to convince Mr. Stilinski to be more reasonable and just admonish the alleged _sinner_ , but now an even bigger problem had just walked through the door.

"Good morning, Minister", greeted Auror Mina Jennings with a little bow of her head.

The witch was wearing particularly gracious clothes, more _lady-like_ than she usually sported, and from that he figured she was probably in the middle of an under-cover type of situation.

The woman in front of him was one of the top members of a team of highly specialized Aurors that Kingsley had created as soon as he'd been given the power and authority to do so.

It was a section of the Ministry that still needed expanding: all recruits were chosen during the normal try-outs, but nobody inside the DMLE knew exactly what their job was about.

They were all fresh minds with no ties or connections to other people in the Ministry (and often inside the English wizarding society as a whole), and their office had been modelled over the muggle concept of _Internal Affairs_.

They responded only to him and watched relentlessly over every single corner of the building: every department, personal office or resting room wasn't safe if they were investigating something or someone in particular.

Since the end of the war there had been turmoil more than once, and so far his idea had proven to be a successful one: keeping the peace among the wizards and witches of the UK after the embarrassing failure of the previous two Ministers, Cornelius Fudge and Rufus Scrimgeour, was not an easy task, and Kingsley was extremely aware of the fact he sat on a very fragile throne.

"Good morning, Miss Jennings. What brings you to my office this morning?"

"I have finished my preliminary report for the attack at Malfoy Manor, Minister", she replied. "Like I originally suspected, Miss Granger is related to the incident".

Nervously pinching the bridge of the nose, Kingsley removed his reading glasses and placed them over the document he'd been reading before the Auror had come into his office. "Mina…", he sighed, somehow warningly.

"I know, sir. You mentored the girl and you know she's not the one who cast the Fiendfyre", the witch professed, raising both her hands in defeat.

"Then how is she related to the incident?", Kingsley asked, repeating her words.

"Whoever did it, it was meant to be an attack towards Miss Granger, too", Mina explained. "There is no way I can say this that would make it sound less gross or revolting, so I'll just say it and be done with it. When Hermione Granger was a student at Hogwarts, she bought herself a familiar, a male half-kneazle cat to be precise. The attackers somehow managed to get their hands on him and they… Well, they casted the Fiendfyre on the poor thing before they threw him in Malfoy Manor's gardens".

The Minister had no words to express his disgust and consternation in front of the action, and reality hit him hard: whoever was after the Malfoys, he or she was much crazier than he'd thought until now.

This was the point where his job became frustrating: by accepting his current position, Kingsley Shacklebolt had been forced to put his past as an Auror behind his back, but that didn't mean he didn't miss the action.

Being Minister of Magic was more about diplomacy and half-victories rather than the delivery of justice, as he'd firstly, and very naively, believed.

"It's imperative we find out who these people are", he ordered. "I give you permission to set up a task-force to deal with this case. I want them in handcuffs as soon as possible. We cannot allow such terrorism to be left unpunished".

"I was thinking that perhaps we could offer the Malfoys the Ministry's protection. It would show the citizens that this office stands by its people", the witch prompted, and if only she wasn't so completely unaware of the political standing of that particular family, her reasoning would have worked magnificently.

Kingsley was going to introduce Lucius to the offer, but he doubted his old dorm-mate was ever going to accept: if he was still the same man he'd went to school with, then there was no way his pride wouldn't get in the middle of things. "I'll speak personally with Mr. Malfoy about it", he conceded without voicing his personal thoughts. "Though I'm afraid that when I tell him that we don't have the shred of a suspect, he'll probably won't even let me come through his floo".

"You must be joking, sir. Everyone would be honoured to have the Minister of Magic in their home", his subordinate replied.

Sometimes he forgot that Ms. Jennings – that was the name she'd chosen for herself after passing the try-outs and being offered a spot in the secret team – wasn't English and didn't know much about the first or the second wizarding war.

She'd been a toddler in South Africa when Tom Riddle had taken over Britain the first time, and she'd moved to the UK when they were already re-building.

She was obviously informed about the main facts that had occurred, and she definitely knew who Harry Potter was, but it wasn't a surprise that she couldn't recall Lucius Malfoy's or his son's name from the articles she'd read on papers or the tales that had been told to her.

Many other members of Mina's team were actually people who had been born and raised in foreign countries, and Kingsley thought of this line action as of another successful idea: they were less _biased_ than the rest of the Ministry's employees, and for the very fragile role they occupied it was a nice change.

"Mr. Malfoy and I went to Hogwarts together, back in the day, but after we graduated we took very different paths. I joined the DMLE, while he took over his family's business and jumped into politics. It's a disgrace he ended up aligning himself with Tom Riddle", the Minister shared, but he was left bitter by his walk on memory lane. "I'm not sure he's going to appreciate our offer".

"From the little information I found out about him, he's trying to move on after his release from Azkaban", Mina countered, and the wizard realized she had been knowing more about the situation than she'd let him believe. "He hasn't stepped out of line once, and apparently he's dedicating himself completely to his family. I'm sure he'll be willing to cooperate if it means keeping said family safe".

"You do have a very strong point, Mina", Kingsley nodded. "I'll make sure I bring it up when I talk to him. Is there anything else I can do for you?"

The witch hesitated. "Well, there would be one thing, sir".

Raising an eyebrow at the Auror (how come no one ever understood when his questions were _rhetorical_?), he invited her to speak with a sharp gesture of his hand. "And that would be?"

"I'd appreciate your permission to further my investigation on Miss Granger, Minister", Jennings asked, politely yet firmly.

"Is there any particular reason you're going after her?", Kingsley felt the need to ask.

The Auror seemed oddly fixated with Hermione, and he wondered why that was.

"That's not what's happening here, sir. I have no personal feelings towards the matter, or towards Miss Granger. However, I do believe she will prove crucial to the solution of this case", the Auror argued her reasons. "I'd go as far as to say the _key_. Isn't it a bit odd that Malfoy Manor gets attacked _after_ the family becomes associated with her? And again, it was _her_ cat who was killed in the process".

"I don't know where you took your information from, Mina, but it's partially incorrect", said the Minister. "The only association there ever was between Hermione and the Malfoys is that she's been tortured in their home by Bellatrix Lestrange, Narcissa's Malfoy sister, during the second wizarding war. Then she fled to Australia almost immediately, and she didn't return until last June".

"When she discovered she had a brother, Mr. Nott, if my research was up to my usual standards", the other replied. It was a winning tactic: daring him to question her unexceptionable actions up until then to force him to trust the badge he'd given her. "Theodore Nott is Draco Malfoy's best friend, isn't he? And wasn't he dating Daphne Greengrass, the poor girl that was attacked during the Summer Festival?"

"I see where you're going with this", Kingsley was compelled to admit. All pieces seemed to be strangely fitting the way she'd just placed them. "Fine, Mina. Have your investigation. But you'll have to be extremely discreet, and you should abstain from contacting Hermione directly".

"That won't be a problem, Minister- _Sir_. Thank you", she thanked him, enthusiastically, and as she smiled and thanked him again her feet were already working her way to the door.

"There's one more thing, Jennings", the wizard called her back to order. "You'll have to deal with this on your own. We don't want people to know we're looking into the private life of a war-hero, even if I'm only giving you my consent because I want to be sure she's safe from harm. We wouldn't recover from this kind of scandal", he stated, and his tone conveyed perfectly how serious he was about the whole deal.

"Of course, Minister", she nodded, taking one more step towards the door.

Auror Mina Jennings was clearly bursting with anticipation, and as with any personal case he'd assigned her, it seemed like she couldn't wait to start.

"I know you care about the girl. All I want to do is finding out who wants to hurt her".

"That doesn't mean you won't be learning about everything else", he sighed, somewhat solemnly. "I'll send a note to your desk if I get a positive reply from Lucius Malfoy about setting up Ministry protection, but I'll have the Aurors take care of it. If that doesn't prove to be the case, we'll keep in touch through the post over the next few days. I have a diplomatic trip I can't postpone any longer", Kingsley said, and then he bowed his head, just once, to let her know she was dismissed.

"I'll wait for your instructions, sir", she complied, swiftly working with the door's handle behind her back. "If that's anything…"

"Just remember you're allowed to speak of your investigation only with myself, and that for no reason Hermione Granger should come to suspect you are following her, not on your behalf and most definitely not on the Ministry's", Kingsley warned her.

" _How do you-_ How do you know I was following her? It was a hole in the water, anyway. She was trying dresses in a shop in Diagon Alley, and from the look on her face she was enjoying it just as much as I was enjoying looking at it. But guess who was there? _Mrs. Malfoy_!", Mina shared when she recovered from the surprise of getting busted.

He'd known she'd been under-cover from the moment she'd stepped into his office.

" _You may leave now_ ".

Whatever was going on, Minister Shacklebolt hoped he could fix it before it was too late, or someone got hurt.

* * *

 ** _( Malfoy Manor – Wiltshire, England  
September 25th, 2003, around 14:00 p.m. )_**

* * *

The first thing Narcissa Black in Malfoy did when she returned home after lunch was to go straight to the master bedroom and change out of the outfit she'd picked out that morning.

As much as she liked the chiffon overlay purple dress, the garment was very uncomfortable to wear, and she sighed in content and relief when she slipped inside her cashmere _peignoir_.

Sitting at her vanity table, the woman proceeded in removing her make-up and spent the following thirty minutes by carrying out her skincare regime.

By the time her hair was perfectly braided and it sat on her right shoulder, however, the blonde was starting to get slightly worried.

It wasn't like Lucius not to come and greet her when she returned home, and especially ever since he'd been released from Azkaban.

In the end, Narcissa decided to simply go downstairs and check up on her husband's whereabouts.

Confident in her steps, the witch set out on the path to the man's personal studio, knocking very softly on the mahogany door when she finally reached it.

It shot open before she could lower her arm, and her eyes met the pristine figure of Kingsley Shacklebolt. "Narcissa", the Minister greeted. "Lovely to meet you, like always".

"Minister Shacklebolt", she replied. " _Kingsley_. What brings you to our home? Has everything happened?", the woman asked, and she could already feel her heart galloping madly in her chest. "Draco?"

"Everything's fine, dear", came from the door, from where Lucius extended an arm to get a hold of her hand. "Nothing has happened. Our son's perfectly safe. He and Adhara are spending the afternoon somewhere in Muggle London", her husband explained, and she didn't miss the frown that crossed his face for a second while mentioning Draco's location.

"Anyway, I was on my way out", Kingsley inserted himself back in the conversation, eager to pay his respects and return to the Ministry. "I'm sure you have many things you may want to talk about with your wife, Lucius".

"That I do, Minister", Lucius conceded, releasing her hand to offer it to the other wizard. He shook it. "I'll be waiting for your owl".

"I'll try to finalize my dispositions before the end of the workday", Kingsley promised as he started to approach the hallway that lead to the parlour.

From there he was going to take advantage of the floo connection the Ministry shared with Malfoy Manor.

Its purpose was to make it easier for the DMLE to do their periodic checks on the former Azkaban prisoner, but the Minister chose to be polite and refrained from mentioning it.

As soon as Shacklebolt disappeared from her sight, Narcissa turned her head to attach her eyes to her husband's. "What was he talking about?"

Lucius didn't reply straight away, inviting Narcissa to join him inside of his study, where he poured a glass of FireWhisky for both of them. "The Ministry officially offered its protection after last week's attack", Lucius told her, grimace hidden behind his drink. "There will be a couple of Aurors around the perimeter of the house, while another will check on the inside and will be available to escort us if we need to go out. Shacklebolt suggested we keep a low profile until they can't identify the aggressors".

"Draco won't like this", was Narcissa's first concern. " _I_ don't like this", was the second. "We've just started getting our life back, Lucius, I won't let these crazy people ruin what may be our last chance at happiness".

"I hope you understand I wasn't in the position to refuse", the wizard replied. For an external observer it would have been impossible to find a noticeable sign of his embarrassment, but his wife knew him too well: it was clear he felt ashamed of himself as of right now. "Hopefully they'll consent to be discreet and follow us from afar when we're out of the Manor, though I don't think many Aurors will be open to the idea of doing a favour to a Malfoy. Perhaps it would be better if we tone down our social life a little".

All of a sudden, Narcissa felt enraged.

She'd persisted for five years in the hope that at some point she was going to get at least a little of her old life back. She wasn't going to bow her head and give up now.

Maybe Lucius wasn't as combative as he'd been during the first years of their marriage, and really for all of their life together until the second rise of the Dark Lord, but that didn't mean she wasn't willing to fight.

Of one thing she was sure, she was going to get her son's support on the matter: there was no way Draco was going to let the Ministry limit his freedom, not again – he'd paid his debt to society, after all, and never crossed the line once ever since.

There was that, but also her very blond son always appreciated an occasion to go against Lucius, a fact that under normal circumstances she was starting to find deeply concerning. "Things will progress just as they've been going for the past few months. I'll give our conditions to the Aurors", she decided. "If they won't listen, I'll see if Harry Potter can do something about it, Lucius".

"I can't believe my wife's connection inside the Ministry is Harry Potter", Lucius mumbled, though he didn't oppose to the idea. "So be it, Narcissa. We'll do things your way", he said.

"You won't be regretting this", the witch reassured him, stepping on her tippy toes to lay a kiss on his cheek, her wrath seemingly forgotten, already.

"I hope so", he confessed, finishing his glass in a long sip. "But I have a condition of my own".

"What is it?", Narcissa asked, slightly tilting her head on the side as she tried to figure out what it could be.

" _I want one of the Aurors to constantly watch over Adhara_ ".

* * *

 ** _( The White Wyvern, room n. 7 – Knockturn Alley, London, England  
September 27th, 2003, around 18:00 p.m. )_**

* * *

The furniture of the room consisted of very few pieces: an old double-bed that was missing a leg, half-eaten by moths, on top of which sat an equally old mattress and a worn blanket that at some point in its life was white, but now was tainted, yellow-ish because of the smoke and Circe knew what else; on the opposite side was the wardrobe, placed so closely to the bed that it was difficult for her to open it and get ready for work in the morning; on the wall on the right hung a portrait whose nudity and artistic value were dubious, but someone had probably put a _Permanent Sticking Charm_ on it, because all of her attempts at taking it down had failed spectacularly.

As for the bathroom, Idabelle Greengrass had to share it with the rest of the rooms located on the same floor as hers.

 _What a disgrace_ – she said to herself every morning as she looked into the mirror and hoped to wake up from the nightmare she was living.

Euriphides wanted to _divorce_ from her, but she still struggled to wrap her mind around the idea: it was a foreign concept for the generation of Purebloods she belonged to – and especially for the very conservatory Selwyn family who had given her birth.

It was something bound to taint your reputation and exclude you from the upper social circle, and the thought had been hunting her since the day she moved out of Greengrass Manor.

All of that because of her… _niece_.

Idabelle had never been a fan – she'd been a huge supporter of Lord Voldemort, after all – and even more so after she'd finally got to meet her face to face.

Eloise was capricious, _whimsical_ even, she did what she wanted when she wanted it and she didn't know the very first thing about being a Pureblood heiress.

She'd almost appreciated her intromission when her daughter had called off her engagement with her good-for-nothing cousin, because at that point her back-up plan was going to take over, but then she'd had the gall to challenge her directly.

The blonde didn't knew what sort of spell the other witch had used to turn her entire family against her, but it had worked, and now she was forced to scrape the bottom and, Hecate forbid it, work for a living.

Like she was a sodding _Mudblood_.

She didn't want to know what her ancestors thought about her, because she was sure it wasn't good.

Checking the watch on her wrist, one of the few pieces of jewellery she hadn't sold to the pawn shop (yet) to pay for the rent of her lousy room, Idabelle realized that the guest she was waiting for was running late, and set out to tidy up the abysmal space once again.

Five minutes later she was done and sat on her bed, needle and thread in her hands, humming an old motive while she attempted to mend the newest hole in her work outfit.

She supposed things couldn't get any worse for her at this point, never in his life had she felt so hopelessly alone and poor, and it was the reason she'd invited Astoria's biological father to visit her.

Idabelle hadn't managed to get a hold on neither her soon-to-be _ex_ -husband nor her utterly useless daughters, and now she was ready to play the only card that was still in her possession.

If she could turn back time, the woman obviously would have never chosen to reveal the truth a second time: what she had believed to be her upper hand had turned out to be her utmost defeat.

She'd spoken out of rage (for the people in her house not following her commands) and pain (that _bitch_ had dared to physically harm her), but she'd regretted revealing her secret the moment she'd completed her sentence.

Once again, it was all Eloise's fault.

She only had this one chance to get back at the insufferable witch, and she was going to make sure it didn't go to waste.

At this point someone knocked on the door, and she exhaled a breath of relief, hiding her uniform underneath the shabby pillow.

Feeling confident in her persuasion skills thanks to the fine garment she was wearing (being married to the owner of a fashion house for over thirty years had its perks, even in times of social disgraces), Idabelle finally reached for the door and opened it.

Her eyes were met with a vision that wasn't exactly the one she'd pictured: twenty years after their last encounter, Xavier Selwyn was still the same handsome and refined man she remembered.

The wizard was a _cousin_ of hers who'd moved out of England shortly after she'd discovered her second pregnancy, a decision she'd urged him to take in order to prevent her husband finding out their affair.

He was her late father's brother youngest son out of his four male heirs.

His facial features hadn't changed a bit, and neither did his ocean eyes, but there was a certain degree of wisdom now chiselled in the light wrinkles of his forehead; he was approaching his fifties but he didn't somehow show more than forty-something.

Xavier was still the _eye-candy_ she'd treasured in her memories, but something in his attitude didn't add up to them.

"Hello, Idabelle", he said, surprising her once more with the change from the accent she so clearly remembered. "I don't have much time, so you better be quick. Like I told you ten days ago when you invited me to your ludicrous party, I'm not interested in reconnecting with the Selwyn side of my family. To me, you all died the day my father exhaled his last breath".

There was nothing left in the way he talked that sounded even remotely British, like twenty-five years of his life had been erased with the casual flick of a wand, but it was also pretty clear he'd spent his time away in a different hemisphere.

"Xavier", the woman called, modulating her voice so that it came out low and seductive, though it seemed to have no effect on the man. "I'm glad you accepted my invitation", she added.

"You said it was about our daughter", he drawled.

The blonde didn't miss the rancour (and was it _pain?_ ) in his voice, and smiled inwardly. She could exploit that. "I haven't heard a word from her since the day I've been kicked out of my home".

She remembered him for being a very compassionate person, and made sure to put a mask on her face which, in her humble opinion, would have solicited pity even from the Dark Lord himself. "She refuses to speak with me", she said, and her performance was the quintessence of grief. "With my other daughter I have hope, she was always a lot more _subdued_ , but Astoria… Astoria is a raging fire, Xavier. She may never talk to me again".

"That might be because you lied to her about the way she was conceived and, from what I've gathered, because you tried to force her sister into a marriage", the wizard mocked her. "I'm not sure what you expected to obtain by going through me of all people, but I think you'll end up disappointed, Idabelle. I'm standing here right now only because I need you to give me her address. Once I get what I want, I'm out of that door and out of your life. Hopefully, this time it's for good".

" _Well, but_ _of course_!", she screeched, theatrically. It was disturbingly clear that there were only a couple arrows left in her bow, but she meant to use them all before admitting her defeat. "One gets betrayed by her husband and left to die, and suddenly her friendship is not welcome anymore!"

" _Oh,_ poor Idabelle", Xavier whispered, walking closer to the door and raising a hand so that he could grab her chin and force her to look him in the eyes. "I don't recall a single instant you and I were friends, cousin. It took me years with a psychologist…", he admitted, and even though she didn't know what a psychologist was, she stored the information for later use. It was a habit. "...But eventually I figured it out. What we had was a sick, disgusting relationship that happened only because I wasn't strong enough to oppose it, and the same goes with my decision to leave England and never return so that you could keep on your gruesome façade".

The coldness of his body language suggested he'd rehearsed the words, but didn't really believe them, while the way his tongue spit each and every of them out made it look like he really meant them.

Not sure what to think, Idabelle started to realize she could say goodbye to her best chance to get her life back, and immediately lost all interest for her interlocutor. "Astoria lives at Greengrass Manor with Euriphides", she told him, now eager to see him leave her current residence. " _And_ she works with him, too. I'm afraid you'll have to necessarily go through my husband if you want to get a hold of her", she implied, revelling in the unease that crossed his face. " _Good luck_ with that".

" _Ex-_ husband", he countered with a sadistic smile. "Farewell, Idabelle. I suggest you consider your life and the choices that brought you to this point", he added, slightly less harshly, on his way out, but the witch was too busy cursing Eloise in her mind to pay any attention. "People refusing your friendship has very little to do with the fact you're about to be divorced. We're in the twenty-first century, in case you didn't get the memo. Perhaps it's because the world has finally understood that you're rotten to the core".

And after that he left, to go where she couldn't tell, and Idabelle was alone once again, left there to socially starve as she contemplated the scraped walls of the abominable room number seven at the White Wyvern, courtesy of Knockturn Alley.

* * *

 ** _( Ministry of Magic, DMLE Office, Aurors' locker room,  
Whitehall, London, England,  
September 28th, 2003, around 10:20 p.m. )_**

* * *

After twelve hours with no pause of Auror patrol, nothing felt better than the hot, steamy shower jet crushing on the tensed muscles of his shoulders.

Over the years Harry Potter had come to resent the desk activities that seemed so fundamental in his job, but after a biennium of anything even remotely criminal taking place in wizarding Britain, his jurisdiction, he was no longer trained for such long shifts.

"I can't wait to collapse into my bed", called Ron from the shower cubicle on his left. "And it's only the first day", he added, and approving noises came from Anthony and Dean, who were already done washing themselves and were tending to their beards in front of the mirror.

"We couldn't let other detectives deal with this and you know it", he said, repeating himself for what felt like the one-hundredth time. "I can't believe I'm actually saying this, but when it comes to the Malfoys you're one of the less biased Aurors this Ministry has".

"Old Lucius should work better on his public relations", Ron grimaced. "I'm doing it only because I promised Malfoy this department would never let any harm come to his child, and I do stand by those words. She has no part in whatever hate her family is facing".

"That gives you honour, mate", Harry smiled. "Anyway, I thought it would be best to work with our teams combined not only because we're already acquainted with each other. It'll make the surveillance go a lot smoother, but I also need your direct contribute with something else I'm working on".

"What is it, Harry?", asked Dean.

"You can count on me, Potter", said Goldstein without stopping trimming his beard. "I got along pretty well with Draco at school, and he could be very smart when he wasn't busy showing off his bloody _pedigree_. Even though our paths took different directions at some point, I don't wish for his family to be hurt, not to mention a four-years-old that has no responsibility for what went down during the war".

The-Boy-Who-Lived closed the water and got out of the shower, covering and gingerly dabbing his wet body with his bathrobe before making sure there were only the four of them in the room before he spoke.

Caution could never be too much with what he was about to share.

"I think the DMLE has been compromised. Or at least part of it", he explained, prompting Ron to throw himself out of the shower and slipping on the wet floor, collapsing with Dean, who accidentally cut half his moustache because of the hit.

"You bastard!", Thomas growled, sending a horrified glance to his reflection in the mirror. "I have a date this weekend, git!"

"Go ahead, Harry", said Anthony, placing a hand on Dean's shoulder to suggest him to shut up and listen to the more serious business at hand.

"Sorry, mate", piped Ron, who then walked to his locker to retrieve his everyday clothes. "What do you mean with _compromised_?"

Harry sighed. "Why the _fuck_ would the Internal Affairs interrogate Hermione, otherwise?"

"Potter's got a point", Dean replied. "Her name wasn't in any of the papers when we were told to summon her for questioning".

"She probably hates me", contributed Ron. "But the order came from an authority level higher than mine…", he trailed off. "Why the fuck _did_ the Internal affairs interrogate Hermione?"

"Precisely", Harry nodded. "They've never mingled with one of our cases before. Something tells me they don't trust us completely as of right now. There's nothing wrong with a little investigation of our own to find out why".

"I don't see why not", Anthony was the first to agree. "It's not like we don't have an awful lot of time to spare while we patrol for the Malfoys. I hope not all of their days are as dull as today".

"I'm sure Mrs. Malfoy will allow us to set up a little workstation, and we'll schedule rounds so that the four us always coincide. If you're ok with it, I wouldn't mention anything to the other members of our teams for now", he requested, looking particularly at Ron, who just like him had been appointed Captain and had to respond for the actions of an entire team.

"That's fine by me", the ginger consented. "I hate those little brats", he added before starting on one of his famous rants about how much he despised the wizards and witches under his command.

"Only Harry Potter gets to start by leading a senior team, Ronald", said Dean. "You still got more than Anthony or I did, man", he then added, gesturing between himself and Goldstein, who were still stuck in a lower grade. "As far as I'm concerned, we have a deal, Harry. We won't share our suspects and keep an eye on the Department. Hopefully we'll catch the lunatics behind the attack sooner rather than later".

The other three men agreed with to the same condition, and silence fell over the room as they all tried to get dressed and ready to leave as soon as possible.

Despite their only active case being the surveillance of Malfoy Manor and the protection of its inhabitants, they still had to come to report to the Ministry every day after their shift.

It was only their first day and they were extremely annoyed by the situation already.

Dean was on his way to the door and the room he was renting in Diagon Alley when Ron bent towards the floor and grabbed something that was stuck between the wall and one of the benches. "Did you guys ever hear of something called _The Scarlett Order_?"

"What the hell is _The Scarlett Order_ now?", asked Harry.

"Allegedly, _the only reliable source to oppose the great evils of contemporary wizarding society_ ", Ron quoted, reading from the magazine in his hands.

The editing of the entire thing could have used some help, but the paper was exceptionally heavy for wizarding standards: _The Prophet_ had seventeen, _The Quibbler_ twenty-one, while _The Scarlett Post_ , that the title written in bold characters on top of the description Ron had just read, had at least fifty or sixty pages.

"What those evils would be? I'm curious now", Anthony chimed in.

"You should ask it to the people who write this stuff, but it looks like the articles are all anonymous", Weasley replied, browsing through the pages of the magazine as he spoke. "There's even a ten-thousand words dossier on Hermione and Nott".

"I don't think I've ever heard of this paper before now", Harry said.

"Me neither", added Dean. "From the looks of it, there's not a legitimate publishing house behind it".

"Anthony, Dean, take the first few hours of tomorrow's shift to do some research about it. We'll have one of the other Aurors fill in for the garden's patrols", Harry started to give his orders. "I'll take it home with me and read through it before I go to bed, hopefully by lunch we'll know if we're supposed to take these people seriously or if they're just the magical version of conspiracy theorists".

"We have conspiracy theorists, thank you very much", Ron snickered. "Sometimes you act like Muggles invented fucking _everything_ ".

"No, Ron, I just act like the two worlds aren't two entirely different realities whose paths never cross, because they aren't", the other countered before approaching his oldest friend and extending a hand, asking for the magazine.

The ginger passed it to him without protest but stiffened as their hands touched and quickly retrieved to the opposite side of the room.

Under normal circumstances he would have tried to ease the tension before finally calling it a day, but today Harry was tired, and had no patience for Ronald's antics.

"I'll see you tomorrow at 9 at the Manor's gates", he told him. "Join us when you're done looking through the records for anything with the word _scarlett_ in it. Have a good night", Harry said to other two before leaving the locker room.

* * *

 ** _( Asmodeus' Pub, the basement – Knockturn Alley, London, England  
September 30th, 2003, around 00:00 a.m )_**

* * *

When the witching hour came, the thirtieth of September, Magnus Loughty was comfortably sitting on a chair, surrounded by approximately fifty other like-minded people and many bottles of good wine.

It was too cheap not to come from the black market, but for tonight he wasn't there as an Auror: he was there as a man who'd been deeply and profoundly repulsed by the society he lived in, one who wanted to know the brilliant minds behind _The Scarlett Post_ , and finally have a conversation with someone with ideas akin to his own.

Everywhere else he had to be very careful to expose his political view of present society, but protected by the walls of a Knockturn Alley pub he could, with a bit of luck, speak without any filters.

The unusual sensation of freedom was the thing Magnus was enjoying the most, or at least until another wizard took the seat next to his and broke the peaceful silence of his table. "Grinder Smith", he introduced himself, offering his hand for him to shake.

Magnus grabbed it, albeit reluctantly, but regretted his decision the very moment he made it, as the other started talking and never stopped, not even when the organizers of the meeting, who were rumoured to be the founding members of the Post themselves, finally entered the improvised stage and started the conference.

Half-way through the narration of his autobiography, the other man finally begun paying attention to the man whose voice echoed in every corner of the room with the aid of a _Sonorus_ charm, and his chit-chat lowered in volume until it completely extinguished himself.

"I'd personally like to start our meeting by thanking each and every one of you for being here today. We're all here because we can't and we won't submit to the intellectual, political and moral tyranny of the Ministry of Magic", said one of the three.

The man who'd just spoken was around thirty, thirty-five years of age, the youngest of the triumvirate of illuminate minds on the stage. Magnus felt particularly inspired by the confidence he seemed to radiate.

"We're all at risk, my friends", intervened a second wizard, this time the older in the group. His face was covered in thin lines and his hair was grey, and he was approximately sixty years old. "Your presence here could put your reputations and your jobs in danger, yet you all took the brave, selfless decision to stand up for _the bettering of the wizarding world_ ", he preached, swiftly approaching the middle of the stage so that more people could look at him. "To protect the group from the _madness of individuals_ , I'm going to ask those of you who wish to join _The Scarlett Order_ to take a collective _Unbreakable Vow_ and sign their names in the parchment that will be passed around. Everyone else can leave now, and forget we ever met".

Conjuring it with a simple flick of his wand, the man gestured for the man who'd talked first to bring it to the public as a couple of people raised from their seats and silently left the room.

Most of them had their faces covered by hoods and cloaks – probably wizards and wizards who were already chased by justice –, but Magnus recognized a couple of them from unsolved cases.

Unsurprisingly, he didn't feel the need to leave and chase after them, therefore bringing those criminals to justice: when he'd decided to come to the meeting, the Auror already knew there were going to be times where he would have been forced to cross his ethical and professional boundaries.

Right now, what mattered the most to him was the _social justice_ that from within the system he'd lost any hope of ever achieving.

"Once we're done with formalities, I'd like to invite you all to enjoy the small refreshment that will be served and get acquainted with each other. The mission we have ahead of us is not a simple one, and I'm sure unbreakable bonds will be forged between you and your comrades", intervened the third wizard, the only one whose name Loughty was already familiar with.

Blake Gastrell was a High Warlock of the Wizengamot, the only institution that wasn't corrupted ( _yet?_ ), and a personal hero of Magnus.

He'd been the man behind many laws that had been promulgated in the past years. They were the only punishment Purebloods had got for their Death-Eater ways, and even though it was less than what they deserved, it was the only consolation price that _good people_ like him could rely on: people like Lucius Malfoy, Voldemort's right-hand, were already out of Azkaban.

Worst of all, _joke was on him_.

He was part of the task force assembled by Harry Potter to protect the Pureblood family after the attack they'd suffered recently, and the past two work days he'd strolled down the gardens of the ancient Manor without doing much else.

 _Frustrating_ couldn't even begin to describe how it was.

"Hey, mate", called the wizard sitting behind him, handing him the parchment and a Self-Inking quill. He'd voluntarily avoided to share his name with the obnoxious stranger, but he supposed he had, once again, the need to choose the lesser evil. "Are you going to sign it?"

A quick look at the paper told Magnus that _Grinder Smith_ was indeed joining The Scarlett Order, and made a mental note to sit as far away as possible from him in the following meetings.

Grabbing the quill and parchment, the wizard scribbled down his name without thinking about it twice, then a fit of laughter erupted from the back of his throat, as he felt like he'd finally found his purpose in life.

This was were he belonged.

It didn't take long for the paper to return in the hands of the older wizard, who then moved on to introduce himself and his partners. "Now that that's out of the way", he said, vanquishing the parchment with a gesture of his wand very similar to the one he'd used to summon it, only in the opposite direction. "My name is Maxwell Edevane and I have a successful business that deals with potion supplies, but I wouldn't call myself a public figure. Most of you probably already know Blake, though", he said, gesturing to the Warlock. "Mr. Gastrell is a decorated member of the Wizengamot. Lastly, this is Christian Culpepper, an American wizard who moved here a couple years ago. He's a journalist and the hand behind the last editorial of _The Post_ ".

"The man's a genius. I've never considered that perspective before, but the way this man put things is brilliant", Grinder commented from his right side. "I'm sick of the Ministry letting war-heroes getting away with things…"

Magnus agreed, but that didn't mean he found his company pleasant. "It is what it is", he replied, half-heartedly. "They got our world rid of Voldemort, so we can't get ride of them now".

"Especially that Granger girl", the other wizard continued, giving no sign of listening to his answer. "She _punched_ me once".

Under normal circumstances Loughty would have cursed society and the pedestal that was placed underneath some people's feet, but as of right now he couldn't help but share the feeling.

Smith kept distracting him from the only reason he was still tolerating his presence, so it was safe to say he'd have liked to hit him square in the face, too.

"How _dare_ she", he exclaimed, unimpressed, then rolled his eyes when the wizard still didn't got his clue and opened his mouth to speak again. "I'm not here to make friends, _mate_. Shut the fuck up once and for all, I'm trying to listen to what they're saying on stage".

The aggression seemed to work, because Grinder Smith widened his eyes in stupor, but closed his lips and finally became silent, allowing Magnus to listen to the announcement Mr. Edevane was making while merely sending him nasty looks.

"…That's why we've concluded that words won't suffice anymore. We have to make something before it's too late, and that's why must act, and act quickly. **_The Scarlett Order will attack the Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on the thirty-first of October, the night of Halloween_** ".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.

 _Va-va-voom_. A new chapter's here and, like usual, I hope you guys enjoyed it.

I was basically falling asleep on my keyboard as I edited what you just read, but I hope I didn't miss anything major in regards to errors and/or typos (if I did, please let me through review/PM).

I'd love to write my usual 500 words of notes but like I said, the only reason I'm still awake was that I wanted to update my story like I promised on tumblr (for any day-to-day update or if you simply want to have a chat, you can find me there under the username of godisawitchfic).

For the same reason, I'll be answering the reviews left to the previous chapter tomorrow. ^^

Let me know what you think and have an amazing week!  
Until next time,  
xoxo

p.s. _**HAPPY PRIDE MONTH**!_ 3


	26. WOW

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **26.**

 **WOW**

 **.**

* * *

 ** _( Diagon Alley, Blaise Zabini's flat – London, England;  
October 4th, 2003, around 09:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

What was left of supper sat on the table inside of the almost empty take-away boxes, while muggle hip-hop music played in the background and spirits were high thanks to the booze and the greenery.

It was a Friday, and the group of former Slytherins was gathering at Blaise's apartment like they did every week on that particular day: the rest of the weekend was dedicated to family and other personal businesses, but Friday they dedicated it to friends when possible.

Theo was comfortably sitting on the sofa, with his best friends on either side, and he was facing Pansy and Tracey, who were perched on twin armchairs as they shared the latest news and gossip; Gregory was momentarily out of the living room and inside the kitchen, cutting strawberries for his wife, who was currently pregnant with their second child.

Their firstborn, Faith, was barely two years old, but this time the baby had been convinced on purpose: with their activity doing great and a solid network of people that could eventually help by baby-sitting, the couple had felt the need to further expand their family, having both lost a parent or both (in Goyle's case) during the war, and their friends were very happy for them.

If parenthood suited anyone in the group of former Slytherins, it was the Goyle-Davis pair.

"I can't believe it's actually happening", Tracey was telling the woman she'd shared a dorm with for seven years. "It feels like yesterday when you would hide your sketches in the trunk and Daphne, Millie and I would pretend not to know anything about it".

The blonde witch was referring to the upcoming launch of Pansy's clothing brand, which she'd announced to her inner circle a couple weeks before: even though it was pretty much old history, it had still been the talk of the evening, considering it was happening tomorrow; the topic had been temporarily outshined by the pregnancy announcement occurred over the main course of the dinner, but now it had been brought up again.

Theo smirked and relaxed on the backrest of the sofa, not particularly interested in hearing the same story for the eightieth time.

From the way they copied his movements, grabbing the glasses they'd previously sat on top the coffee table at their feet, Blaise and Draco seemed to have the same opinion.

He didn't just know everything about _Obsidian Couture_ just from Pansy's endless tales, though. His sister brought up the subject with awful frequency, too.

Still unexplainable for everyone who'd met one witch or the other during their Hogwarts years, the two women were now joined at the hip: it wasn't like they couldn't survive if separated, but it was clear that they thrived in each other's company.

He didn't know what exactly had happened to create such a strong bond between the two, but he was grateful for it: he knew how much of a good friend Pansy could prove herself to be as he'd experienced it first-hand, and from the little Hermione had shared about her past, he felt like that was exactly what she'd needed the most.

He wasn't very informed about his sister's life in the five years following the second wizarding war, all he had were the information available to the general public, like old Australian magazines and Google searches on Victoria Sallow, and the things he'd gathered from both Eloise's and Pansy's stories, pieces of a puzzle that he knew for a fact was much bigger than he could ever begin to guess.

What Theodore was sure of was that she hadn't had an easy life.

"Any news?", he asked Pansy, taking advantage of a small pause in her speech to get the dark-haired woman's attention. "The _Heating Charm_ won't last much longer", he added, trying to simulate indifference.

Sometimes he sounded like an _anxious mother_ rather than a considerate brother, and what was worse was the fact that he was fully aware of it.

"Stop pestering me about this, Nott", the witch protested. "You were here when your sister called me the last time this morning. Her meeting was delayed".

"Meeting for which she left two days ago. Couldn't she just use the Portkey to go to Fairytale and then apparate to Sydney like she usually does?", he countered. In his humble opinion, it made a lot more sense.

"She could have", Pansy conceded. "But it was wiser not to. She had to rush to Sydney for some of her Muggle business, don't ask me what it is because she didn't say it, but in this kind of situation she usually follows a very strict protocol. Hermione tries to move with Muggle means of transport as much as she can. It wouldn't be too out of this world if the Australian or the English government one day decided to check on her, not when she has all that money and her hands in many things they're interested in. If they do, there'll be records of her travels and stuff like that, which is why she pays a _doppelganger_ to take planes instead of her all the time. Unluckily, this time around the girl we usually use for the job wasn't available, and with such a short notice she couldn't come up with anything better".

"I still don't think it's safe for her to be alone on the other side of the world", Theo replied, refusing to drop the subject.

"I'm sure she'll be perfectly fine", intervened Blaise, trying to laugh it off as if it would have been enough to ease the tension, but his laughter died in the silence that suddenly filled the air.

The stillness was broken by the " _Pop!"_ sound of someone who just apparated into the room.

Standing next to a suitcase of considerable dimensions, Hermione was welcomed into Blaise's living room by her best friend's awkwardly loud sigh of relief. "Finally!", she exclaimed. "See, Theo? She's still in one piece".

He rolled his eyes. "That's not what I was worried about", he hurried to explain, because Hermione already looked pissed.

She was currently greeting Tracey and congratulating the witch for her pregnancy, but as she was hugging the blonde she didn't miss the opportunity to send a threatening glance in his way.

"Malfoy Manor is under the Ministry's protection for a reason. I know it's not what you need to hear right now, mate", he paused for a moment, looking at Draco as if he was waiting for his blessing, which he obtained, to continue. "They'll strike again. Whoever tried to kill your family will probably try to do it again. And the Ministry itself confirmed these people are also coming after you, sister".

"What does that mean?", asked Goyle, who was just now returning from the kitchen with a bowl full of minutely sliced strawberries. "How can the attack at Malfoy Manor be related to Hermione?"

* * *

The following thirty minutes went by with the twins sharing what had been discovered thus far, albeit reluctantly on Hermione's part, with those people in the room who weren't fully updated on the situation.

Quite obviously, even Tracey and Goyle knew that the Manor had been set on fire and luckily saved from it; if they hadn't been called by Mrs. Malfoy's phone and asked by a delirious Lucius Malfoy if Draco was with them, they'd have read about it in the papers.

Reporters had come out with many different theories about the event, but none of them resembled the truth even remotely.

To say that journalists _disgusted_ Hermione would have been quite the very definition of euphemism.

As a child she used to think they were _heroes_ , the only people in the world who cared about justice and reporting facts as they'd occurred, but as she grew up and subsequently developed critical thinking, she'd become aware of the harsh reality around her: they (well, _most of them_ ) were hypocrites.

They bowed to the powerful, sneered at the poor and mocked the selfless, and they only cared about their personal profit.

There was nothing wrong to want to enrich oneself with the product of one's work, she supposed, but she found moral boundaries to be extremely rigid in their situation: who didn't stand by the truth was a _fraud_.

To Hermione, it was really as simple as that, which was precisely the reason she was getting _so_ unnerved _so_ quickly as she heard once again the story portrayed by the last Sunday's edition of the Daily Prophet as it came out of her brother's lips.

"…and then Rita concluded by saying it's _obviously_ a conspiracy set up by the friends Mr. Malfoy still has in the Ministry, and that she invites her readers to keep their eyes open as the elections are coming closer".

"I thought the cow wrote for Witch Weekly now?", Pansy gasped.

"She resigned before I was even half-way through my first week of leadership", Theo clarified. "Mrs. Skeeter doesn't like being told what to do".

"Or what she _can't_ do", Hermione added. "I was pretty sure The Prophet was never going to take her back".

"Oh, they weren't", Tracey chimed in, eating the last one of her strawberries before setting the bowl down on the coffee table and speaking again. "There's a new chief editor. He's from another country and he doesn't really care about what happened here before his arrival, or so he claims. At least…", she paused. "Well, that's what Susan Bones told me over lunch the other day. She writes for The Prophet, too".

"Do you happen to know what's the name of the new editor?", the brunette inquired, perching herself a little straighter on the sofa.

The former Gryffindor was sandwiched between Zabini and her brother, sitting stiffly in her coral mid-rise ankle columnist pants.

Her mood had definitely changed since setting foot on British soil, and Hermione could now only think about the downsides of the outfit she'd picked that morning – even though it wasn't morning anymore because of the time difference –, like the fact they were uncomfortable, or annoyingly didn't perfectly match the colour of her nail-polish.

She could be picky and whimsical, especially if triggered by sleep-deprivation and reporters whose fantasy ran wild, and she was regretting her choice of attending dinner at Blaise's tonight despite the last-minute trip to Australia.

The business matter that had required her presence was luckily solved, but it didn't mean she wasn't still bothered by its cause: just like Dylan had warned her it was going to happen, some shareholders seemed keen on backing Lex's father up if he ever tried to dethrone her.

For now, the problem was dammed and the public relationships restored, but she knew she needed the English launch to be a success more than ever: what those people cared about was money, so as long as she managed to keep their pockets full, there was no reason they would associate themselves with Augustus Martin rather than her.

"I can't really tell you right now", Tracey replied. "Susan didn't mention it. But I can totally ask her the next time she comes to the gym. I'm not teaching any classes until the baby is born, but I still spend most of time behind the desk, and she works out at our place twice every week. I'm sure I can casually bring up the subject".

"And if she's not there, I'll try to get it out of her", Goyle intervened from her side. He was protectively surrounding her shoulders with one arm, and by the way he continuously turned to look at her – at the way she smiled, and the way she talked, and how Tracey smiled a little brighter, and talked a little faster in return – it was crystal clear they loved each other dearly.

"Thank you, guys. But I really don't want to bother you", Hermione said. "I can just buy myself a copy sometime next week and see it for myself".

"I thought you refused to buy that shit…", Theo and Pansy noted simultaneously.

"Normally, I do", she confirmed. "But if you put a quill in Rita Skeeter's hands you're either _stupid_ or _plain evil_. In any case, someone must intervene before her stories lead to _another_ civil war".

"Couldn't you just let someone else take care of it for once?", her best friend objected. "You already have a lot on your plate as of right now".

"Someone else, but _whom_ , uh? Do you know happen to know someone that has both the means and the desire to shut down that _hell-hole_ once and for all?", she countered.

When silence followed her question, Hermione opened her mouth to add something, but she was preceded by Draco.

"They printed shit about pretty much everyone in this room", he said, and everybody agreed. "You're not the only one who wants them to go down for their lies".

"I can't begin to imagine what they'll write about _Obsidian Couture_ ", Pansy added. "Probably that I have a factory of enslaved muggle children who sew the garments for me hidden somewhere".

"That wouldn't be too hard to postulate", Hermione observed, mercilessly, even though she knew the idea was completely ludicrous and irrational. "I don't even remember how many times I warned you about this", she added, not passing up on the chance of saying _I told you so_ as it was well embedded into her character. "I hope you got rid of the skeletons in your closet, because they're going to come digging".

" _Woah_ , slow down there. Stop _projecting_ your anxiety on me", the other retorted. "There's nothing in my closet that I couldn't survive if it came out. What about you?"

"Mine is hidden somewhere it can't be found, so I wouldn't worry about someone opening it", the brunette replied, rolling her eyes for good measure.

The fact her friend wasn't concerned didn't mean she wasn't worried sick about her upcoming debut as a fashion designer.

It was something Pansy had put a lot of energy, money and effort into, and if her dreams were shattered her heart would probably end up broken in the process, too.

"I still stand by my original argument on the matter, as you well know", she started, reminding the other witch of the fact for the umpteenth time. "An Australian or American launch would have been wiser in business terms. You could have made a name for your brand overseas before facing the bygones who make the rules here".

"I don't think the Ministry would waste their time or resources on investigating Pansy's clothes rather than deal with Death Eaters, real or presumed that they may be", Blaise intervened, and the dark-haired woman nodded vigorously from her seat on the opposite couch.

"Besides, if they really plan to harass me for _Obsidian Couture_ , what are they going to do when _MagiTech_ becomes a thing here, too? You've seen the faces of those bureaucrats when you came out as Victoria Sallow. They were not exactly pleased", Pansy insisted.

"No, they weren't pleased", joined Theo. "But I don't believe it's because of her fake identity or the company she's built", he trailed off with a sad smile, but the undertones of his speech were extremely loud, and everyone in the room paused for a second to really let them sink in.

 _Their problem is that you're my sister_ , his blue eyes, identical to hers, seemed to scream. _The problem is that you're a Nott_.

"Soon enough it'll be old news", Hermione tried to reassure him, but she didn't really believe it, and the encouragement came out deprived of the confidence it needed to succeed. "In the meantime, we can always take a Portkey and go somewhere else if things here get too tough".

She knew it sounded wrong even before she was done saying it, but she honestly didn't care: there were battles worth fighting, and she refused to go to war just for the right of calling him her brother.

If England and its stupid reporters had a problem with that, she was sure they could move their home somewhere else and start over.

She'd done it once already, and she'd been _brilliant_ at that, so what was there to lose?

Reality hit her hard when she raised her head and noticed the look in the eyes of the people she had not addressed directly.

A new life meant forgetting the previous one and leaving people behind.

She'd experienced that, too, but it had been only after coming back and seeing her old friends that she'd realized it was the kind of thing you could _un-_ do only once: she and Harry had restored their relationship almost completely with the help of Pansy's mediation, but only on the shared premise that she was never going to disappear again; Ginny had been even more explicit on the subject, and if history was to repeat herself, the next time Hermione pulled such a stunt her red-haired friend wasn't going to be as welcoming; as for Ron, she still didn't know where she stood, and honestly she couldn't tell if he was willing to let her back into his life even now.

Those thoughts could seriously lead her down the very dangerous path of guilt, self-loathing and melancholy, so Hermione shook her head vigorously and tried to focus on the slightly less tragic turn that the conversation had just taken: _who_ were these new Death Eaters? But mostly, _what_ did they want?

"Things don't add up, do they?", Blaise was saying. "There were _two_ attacks in the span of a month or so after years of absolute silence from that party, yet they couldn't be more different from each other in the way they were carried and, possibly, in what they wanted to achieve. There's definitely some crucial detail both we and the Ministry are entirely missing", he theorized.

"Well, if we had names we wouldn't be here talking about them", Draco replied. "Don't look at me like that", he added when he noticed the look his friends were sending him. It was the same he'd seen years before on the Hogwarts Express, but now he wasn't a terrified kid who brags about the Dark Lord choosing him while secretly hoping to sort the mess out without anybody (not Dumbledore and most definitely not his mother) dying because of it. "I don't mean I would personally take action against them".

"Nobody was thinking that", Hermione vouched, but her determination was soon destroyed by the sceptical look on everybody's face.

"Actually, we were all thinking that", Zabini said. "Malfoy's a nasty one", he then proceeded to explain. "I'm pretty sure a real Death Eater, no matter how _unproductive_ , could stand his ground against fake ones".

"You'll just assume they're not proper Death Eaters, then?", she countered, and before she could even start to lecture him about how inappropriate it was for him to bring up the blond's troubled past, the man decided to speak for himself.

"I'm sorry the fact I didn't murder or torture anybody bothers you this much, Blaise", he asserted with a wry smile. "But I get what you're trying to say. If it wasn't for the Dark Mark in the sky I would have never thought Death Eaters to be involved in any of this, personally".

"Exactly my point", Zabini smirked back. "Not to mention Death Eaters would have no reason to go after Daphne. From their perspective, killing a young, Pureblood lady like her would be a waste. The worst thing they'd do to her is marrying her off to their sons or, _Merlin forbid it_ , marry her themselves".

"Because what Daphne hypothetically wants does not matter, obviously", Hermione hissed, annoyed by the misogynist turn the conversation was taking (not that she blamed Blaise, he wasn't the one who'd established that particular role for women in wizarding society), and Pansy and Tracey empathetically nodded their heads.

"Not to them", the wizard complied. "It's the kind of people who'd be desperate about having a daughter rather than celebrating the fact they're becoming a parent. With that I'm not saying they're better with their sons, because they aren't, but I thought you might like to see the big picture in its entirety".

As her best friend's lips quirked up in a smirk and she whispered something along the lines of " _Poor, naïve Blaise_ " in Tracey and Gregory's direction, the witch couldn't hold back the rush of nervous laughter that erupted from her parted lips.

"As much as I appreciate your concern over my alleged ignorance on the subject, it is not needed", said Hermione. "I could take an exam on Pureblood customs right now and I'd probably score higher than any of you. Funny thing is that I'd have to thank Muggles for it".

The reaction of the people in the room didn't surprise her at all: someone's eyes grew wider as their mouths fell open, while Pansy howled without any grace, Draco sent her a sceptical and somewhat challenging look (as if he was determined to test her knowledge as soon as an opportunity to do so knocked on his door) and Blaise simply bowed his head.

"Chapeau", he exclaimed, grinning at her, the stark white of his perfectly well-tended teeth creating a sharp, yet pleasing contrast with the dark, extremely warm tone of his complexion. Zabini was definitely an eye-candy, and if she summed that information up with the fact he simply _adored_ her girlfriend and worshipped the ground she walked on, it wasn't difficult to understand why Ginny loved him as much as she claimed – even though she knew she hadn't shared the sentiment with the man himself just yet. "How would you know so much about our crowd, though? Well, it's your crowd, too, but that's not my point. Why waste your time studying beliefs you found completely wrong? I'm personally kind of mad I've spent all those years of my life adhering to them".

"I'd say I'm sorry, but I'm not", Hermione started, pausing for a moment to find the right words to properly convey her message. The subject was delicate, and it could easily lead to misunderstandings, which she wanted to avoid at all costs. "The mistakes you made in the past have forged the person whose home I'm sitting inside of today, and I honestly don't think I'd be here if you hadn't followed the very specific narrative arc you did. I'm not one for blind forgiveness and an optimistic vision of the future where everybody makes amends and finds his happily ever after", she admitted, her expression one of sheer severity as her eyes locked on his and the electric blue flashed with affection. "Anyway, as for why I decided to learn about your customs, the answer is extremely prosaic: _know your enemy_. We surely can concur that's what we were in school. As for how, you'd be surprised of the things that could be found in the Hogwarts Library".

"I know it speaks volumes for my grades, but I think I've been there only once, and it happened by mistake", Gregory chimed in, obviously feeling the need to lighten the discussion. "So, you know about _Jupiter's Jewels,_ I presume?"

"You're damn right I do. It was very well described in a tome I once found in the Restricted Section. It talked about the families who allegedly built the English wizarding society as we knew it. I use the past tense here because things are changing so fast we could easily wake up tomorrow and finally open our eyes to _modernity_ rather than this hybrid the Ministry is trying to sell to its citizens".

"How well described, exactly?", Theo managed to ask, his voice coming out very high-pitched and yet feeble. "Like, there were _details_?"

It was then that Hermione noticed an odd blush was creeping up the cheeks of all the men in the living room. Just like predicted.

 _Mission accomplished_ , _tension dismissed_ – she thought.

"The complete regulation of the… _Competition_ ", she air-quoted. "As well as a list of winners from the previous two-hundred years. It was written by one of our ancestors, I think?", the witch asked, gently elbowing her brother from his left side.

"I think you're right", he replied. " _Unfortunately_ ", he hurried to add.

"I bet it's the same guy who wrote the Pureblood-Directory", Blaise said, being the first to recover from the embarrassment. He'd always been the less involved in Pureblood traditions and etiquette among his circle of close friends, and he couldn't pass on an opportunity to make fun of them. " _The_ _good, old Cantankerus Nott_ ", he chanted.

"I've read that one, too. The man loved his _opium_ , obviously", Hermione exclaimed. "And yes, he wrote both of them", she lectured, ignoring the shiver that crawled up her spine when her biological father was called by his given name.

"He was our great-uncle I think, but he was the youngest of Alastair Nott's seven sons, so he kind of removed himself from the family the moment his father died and he wasn't mentioned in his testament".

"So he decided to get his revenge with the rest of the world and write that crap. Sounds fair", the witch sneered. "Anyhow, those of you who ever bothered to read this particular book will know that after you turn the last page it feels like you've just competed in the Jewels two-hundred times".

At this point Draco, who'd been looking completely amused by her discomfort at speaking of Cantankerus just a moment before, sat a little more stiffly on the couch and flashed her a dangerous smile.

She was thrilled to see his smirk freezing up as Theo understood the game she was playing and ultimately joined her team. "You should see the books Lucius made _him_ read when we were younger", he said, pointing a finger at his best mate. "Some of that shit's unbelievable".

"And what's believable it's disgusting", Blaise added, but then he seemed to reconsider his allegiance to the blond, and patted him on the shoulder, smiling sadly. "But it's not much worse than the things Cantankerus and Helen tried to plant into our heads", the Slytherin continued, nodding encouragingly at her brother.

"What matters is that they never got the best of us", Draco replied.

His face was a perfect façade of indifference, but Hermione could read perfectly what his grey pools were screaming: the subject was one he found very hard to digest.

The witch could sympathize with him: self-perception and conscience were things she struggled a lot with, too.

Suddenly, she felt the need to take his hand and just hold it. It was a pity she couldn't do so, not while sitting with their friends, who knew nothing, with the exception of Pansy, about the connection blossoming between them.

"Not our parents, but most importantly not ourselves. We were raised to be the worst possible version of young wizards and witches that we could be, but it was up to us not to be complete assholes, and for a long time we absolutely failed. The choice to discard what we were taught was in front of us the entire time, we just ignored it until it was too late", Malfoy continued, his tone harsh as his words cut through the air and made most of the people in the room uncomfortable; all Slytherins minus Tracey, who being a Half-blood had spent her school-days on the same side of the fence as Hermione.

She'd always wondered, back in the day, how it was to possess her blood status and therefore its social equivalent while being a part of Salazar's elitist crowd.

"We didn't when it mattered the most, though", Gregory countered, snuggling his wife a little closer on his side and giving her a peck on the forehead. "We found a way to learn from the war, from our mistakes…", he trailed off, his voice dropping an octave. "…From Crabbe's death. Even though he wasn't given the same opportunity".

"I don't think he would have taken it", Draco sighed. "It takes a great deal of destructive purpose to conjure up Fiendfyre".

The last sentence wasn't something you could argue with, not if you possessed even a shred of intellectual honesty.

Academic texts contained little to zero information about the origins of the curse, with historians rarely agreeing with each other on anything, but there was one thing all experts mentioned in their studies: Fiendfyre was rare because it required a spiritual effort that was incredibly expensive – and potentially lethal.

"You're right, Drake", Greg complied, and his chest deflated under the weight of that uncomfortable truth. "We told him to let you go, you know, Granger?", he continued, turning his head slightly so that he could look at her in the face as he spoke directly to Hermione. "We saw you and your friends entering the Room of Requirement. We'd been sent to look for you by our fathers since nobody seemed to be able to find you on the battlefield…"

"There's no need for you to do this", Hermione interrupted him, smiling encouragingly as she simultaneously perceived the room as less spacious than before.

The Battle of Hogwarts was a moment in her life that she was yet to metabolize, the worst and the deepest of all the traumas war had left her to deal with.

It was a walk on memory lane she happily avoided. _Thank you anyway_.

Unluckily for her, Goyle downright ignored what she'd just said. "I remember it like it was yesterday", he begun, but from the way his voice trembled ever so slightly over certain syllables, it became clear for the witch that she wasn't the only one there with a baggage.

Taking a quick glance around, she couldn't find someone inside of Blaise's living room who didn't.

In that sense Hermione felt like they were much braver than she was: barely and with much trouble, but at least they were owning up to it.

She knew she couldn't play _hide-and-seek_ with her emotions for much longer, not while remaining sane, but she wasn't sure she could ( _ever_ ) stop.

Gregory cleared his throat. "It's almost funny how we were on that floor because we honestly thought there was no way you'd be taking a walk over there. What was it that you said, mate? Let's go enjoy our final hours of freedom because no matter what, we've lost this war?"

"I believe it sounded a little more like _let's crawl down a hole in the basement because no matter how this war ends, we're completely fucked up_ ", Draco corrected, his rosy lips quickly returning to a flat, nervous line the moment he was done talking.

"The war fucked up everyone and everything we ever knew", intervened Pansy, who'd been unusually silent for the past ten minutes. Inside her eyes was seething a sentiment that Hermione was perfectly acquainted with: protectiveness. "But I don't think that sitting here and let it fuck us up even more it's the best option we got", she scolded.

"I'm just saying…", Goyle begun to speak, but he was stopped by a quick gesture of the witch, who waved him off.

"I understand what you're saying", Pansy sighed. "But I ask you as your friend to stop killing everyone's mood and let me celebrate my big milestone. Can you do that for me, Greg?"

"I never meant to ruin your party", the man apologized, looking thoroughly sorry for ruining the atmosphere.

If only he knew that it was just her best friend acting as a shield for her feelings and only her own, since apparently she was the only one who still couldn't bear the thought of talking about the war.

"The party is not ruined until I say so myself", Blaise chimed in, standing up and reaching the cabinet behind the sofa. The wizard opened its window and took his wand, then gestured for different bottles to float in the air and sit on top of the coffee-table followed by seven glasses.

Everyone helped himself with whichever drink they preferred, while Tracey continued to sip on her water.

Alcohol wasn't good for an unborn child even in the wizarding world.

As Blaise returned to his seat, Hermione stood up and raised the glass of red wine she'd chosen for herself. "To Pansy, who's been working nonstop to make this happen even though the smartest person she knows advised her against it", she joked, and soon the others followed her in cheering for their friend.

The raven-haired witch blushed prettily in hearing her words, the last part causing her to grimace. "To friends who care so much about you making the right choices that you can't really be mad at them", Pansy said before blowing her a kiss.

Goyle emptied his drink and turned to Pansy once more. "There's something I don't understand", he confessed. "Didn't we celebrate the fact you were opening a store somewhere around six months ago? Was I so drunk it messed up my ability to _déja-vu_?"

"We're on the same train, mate", Theo came to his aid. "I definitely remember the same thing".

"That was her pop-up shop, guys", Blaise explained to the pair, getting an approving nod from the witch, whose immediate effect was to spread the smirk on his face. "Is it possible you men never pay attention?", he added, teasingly, but from the way one of his eyebrows imperceptibly quirked up, Hermione assumed he was actually quoting Ginny, and just re-living a conversation he'd had multiple times but from the opposite perspective.

Talking about a victim enjoying the power of becoming headsman.

From there on the conversation finally settled on friendly, cheerful tones, and as the bottles were quickly deprived of their content, the party finally kicked in.

It was a shame her mood was by now irremediably ruined and she no longer was in the right disposition for a celebration.

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Curie Road – London, England;  
October 4th, 2003, around 11:45 p.m. )_**

* * *

Draco had been quietly listening to the undertones of the woman's words and gestures for the whole night, and it didn't take a genius to know that she'd been leaving Blaise's flat not because she was tired, like she'd said to the the small crowd gathering there, but because she probably wanted to be alone and mope undisturbed.

If there was something the blond was experienced with it was the feeling of being completely and utterly alone even in a room full of people, even surrounded by friends and family, and knowing where that kind of mind-pattern usually led – _isolation_ , mostly, and probably crying yourself to sleep because you feel like you'll never fill the gap between what your life is supposed to be and what it actually is –, the wizard really didn't wish for Hermione to be alone that night.

Mentions of the war as well as the reminder of how Crabbe had been so driven by hate he'd literally _immolated his life to the cause,_ had made him wish not to lay on his bed on his own, too.

There had been a time where he'd been just like Vincent, misguided and ignorant, and even years after he'd finally broken the chains holding his mind, attitude and perspective on life, the young Malfoy still struggled with coming to terms with the person he'd once been.

He supposed the difference was all in the fact he'd realized his mistake way before he'd seen the first casualty made by the conflict, but sometimes he still had the simmering doubt that the ground where he stood on today, he'd gained merely because of his luck.

Because of something unpredictable, and not even slightly related to worthiness and merit.

The presence of the woman at his side didn't help in that regard, as she was a constant reminder of what he _hadn't_ been when it had mattered the most, but it was also strangely cathartic: if _She_ bothered to put up with him, then maybe he wasn't the complete failure he liked to believe he was in the moments angst and despair got the better of him.

He owed it to his child to be a _healthy_ person, but recently he'd discovered than being _happy,_ too, helped even more.

And that's what the amazing witch next to him made him feel like whenever they were on their own and he could get closer to her.

 _Happy_.

He couldn't say for sure that the fact his daughter had been recently blossoming and his involvement with Granger were related, but Draco wasn't a big fan of coincidence: he felt like being with her was somehow making him better (expanding his mind, nurturing his heart, shaking his entire world), and by proximity it was proving to be beneficial for his daughter, too.

The pair was directed to the house he'd purchased just a week before; it was inside the complex Hermione had literally built from scratch and magically hidden in a corner of London, and as their steps echoed quietly on the pavement of the streets, the privacy of the alley allowed the wizard to do something he usually had to refrain himself from doing: holding her hand.

They spent an impressive amount of time together – what with her being the long-missing sister of his best friend, and the best friend of his other best friend, but also his parents' goddaughter coming over for dinner every Saturday she could –, but they managed to spare for only themselves a very little fraction of it, and he wished he could change that.

It was one of the reasons he'd decided to finally move out of the Manor and buy a place where he could grow his child as his own independent self, and the fact they were going to be neighbours was simply a welcome consequence.

He'd been planning to look for a home for quite some time now, especially since Lucius had been released from Azkaban and the quiet routine he'd followed with his mother had been forced to shapeshift and accommodate one more person, but originally he'd opted for muggle London: as much as he appreciated their technology, Draco had been a wizard his entire life, and not without a little heartache he'd come to the conclusion that he was never going to be left alone if he decided to opt for Diagon Alley.

When the opportunity of residing in a magical (and from what he'd seen, technologically advanced) part of the English capital where he wouldn't need to worry about people whispering nasty things to his daughter as he took her out for a walk, he'd been more than thrilled to jump on the train without thinking about it twice.

It was really the best of both worlds.

Money wasn't a problem, and he could easily invest an additional sum in grabbing one of the sick Portkeys Hermione's company made, so that he could still easily come and go from the Manor as he pleased.

Lucius and Narcissa were a big part of Adhara's life, and she was extremely attached to her grandparents: Draco would have never taken that away from her, not in a million years, not if it wasn't his only option.

As much as his relationship with Lucius was damaged, his old man had managed to create a beautiful one with his granddaughter.

The blond had lost count of the times he'd found himself jealous of his own daughter: as petty as it was, he wished his father had made the same effort when he was a child himself.

"What are you thinking about?", Hermione asked in a whisper. Her words came out so softly he wondered if she'd actually spoken them, and the fact she was still walking at the same pace as before, her blue eyes fixed on the horizon, only grew his doubts. She squeezed his hand. "Is everything ok?"

"Yeah, everything's fine", he lied. His goal for tonight was to get the witch to talk about her feelings (and more precisely her feelings about him), not the other way around. If Draco opened up about what was really on his mind, there was a good chance his plan would fail miserably. "I'm just happy I finally did it", he confessed, opting for a classic Slytherin half-lie. "I'm moving out of the Manor".

"The second attempt is going to be better than the first one, I promise", she reassured him, turning her head to face him as she smiled.

"Technically, this is the third", he retorted. "When my probation eventually came to an end, I shared a flat in Muggle London with Theo and Blaise for a couple of months. Some of the best days of my life".

"What happened then?", Hermione inquired, but after a couple of seconds the gears in her mind must have completed their math, because her eyes comically widened and she brought her free hand to her mouth as she gasped. " _Jesus_ , I'm so sorry".

"Wasn't he the guy who turned water to wine? That was some magic", he smirked. "Anyway, I returned to the Manor when I found out I had become a father".

"A bachelor's abode is hardly the right place where to take care of a baby", she frowned. "It must have been hard for you to have another human being to look out for without the customary nine months to prepare for it".

"I understand why Jennifer never told me she was pregnant", Draco started, but then he cut himself off as he realized what slippery slope he was putting himself into.

Women didn't want to know about your dead ex-girlfriends, right?

Apparently, this one did, because she released her hand from his grip and grabbed his forearm instead, the fabric of his jacket being the only thing separating her skin from what was left of his Dark Mark.

After the fall of Voldemort it had started fading, and during the course of his time in the muggle world he'd gone to a top-rated tattoo-artist and got a work of art out of its remains.

He very much preferred muggle tattoos, because they were statements: so he'd made two more, one about what he wanted for himself and one celebrating his promise to his daughter to be the best parent he could possibly be.

"Why do you think she kept it a secret?", the brunette urged him.

"For the time we spent together, Adhara's mother was my best friend", Draco sighed. It was clear he had now to re-adjust his plans, but perhaps talking about his feelings was the key to make Hermione open up about hers. Regarding him, potentially. "I was cut off from everyone I'd known previously to the day I was left in muggle London. I couldn't contact my mother, and the couple times I met Blaise and Theo it was because they were also living in the muggle world and we happened to be in the same place. I wouldn't say Jennifer and I were in love with each other. The moment it started we already knew it wasn't going to last, we already had a deadline. I was bound to leave the moment my probation was over, and she was still into her ex. Our plan was to just keep each other company for a little while", he explained.

His relationship with Adhara's mother was something he rarely talked about, as it was complicated and easily misunderstood, but it felt oddly good sharing it with Hermione.

"Unfortunately, I could never check with her if my theory was true, but… I feel like she was never going to tell me that I had a daughter. I've made the math and she probably got pregnant when I was starting to get ready to leave. I couldn't break the Statute of Secrecy and I wasn't planning on making her my wife, so I had to tell her that I was leaving the country", Draco continued, taking advantage of her silence to finish his story. "It was her sister who called me after being called herself by the hospital. The only thing Jennifer had in her wallet were two tickets for Manchester and the emergency contact I'd given to her. I don't think she was ever planning to use it".

"She must have felt exceptionally alone", Hermione noted. "I'm really sorry her life ended this way. I can't believe she died of something like childbirth in this century".

"The doctors said she'd stopped caring about herself a long time before. She was underweight despite being pregnant and around the fifth month she stopped showing up for work. When Adhara was born she was the tiniest little thing, and I risked to loose her right after I discovered she existed", at that point his voice trembled under the emotional pressure of the memory, and he did his best to hide his sorrow with a hit of fake cough.

It was a strange feeling, being angry with someone who was dead.

As much as he missed his friend and lover (though not in the latter capacity) on a daily basis, Draco was still mad about the fact she'd deliberately endangered his daughter's life: she could have told him the truth, and perhaps he would have never left the flat they'd shared for a little less than a year; she could have called, and surely as hell she would have received the best medical care money could pay for; she could have lived, and Adhara would have had her mother.

He wasn't sure he could ever forgive her for that.

"She's safe now, Draco", the woman muttered after a little while. "Adhara is fine, and she's a happy child. You're doing an amazing job at raising her on your own, and I can promise you that no one of your enemies will get close enough to hurt her".

Then she stopped walking, and Draco realized two things: first, they'd reached their destination and walked around it two times already, and if she hadn't stopped they'd probably be having their third go at this point; second, she'd managed to see what really was bothering him before he'd done so himself.

The present threats to Adhara's safety were much scarier: they had nothing to do with the regular course of nature, it was all about the depravity of mankind.

The relative peace which had followed the attack at Malfoy Manor was perhaps what unnerved him the most: he knew someone was watching, he knew someone out there was plotting to hurt the people he cared about (Hermione included), and it was making him insane not being able to do a single thing to deal with the problem.

"I still wish I knew who these people are", he remarked.

Hermione nodded, but she decided not to add fuel to the already rampaging fire. Turning her head to the gate that lead to the externally identical semi-detached houses located at civic numbers eight and ninth of Curie Road, the witch eyed them for a second before she turned back to him. "Remind me of which one you ended up getting?"

"I'll be living in the one on the left", Draco said. "The other had a Jacuzzi in addition to the pool, but I think this one is a little more suited for a toddler", he explained, removing his brand-new pair of keys and fiddling with them.

When the gate was finally open, he offered her his arm and the pair started to walk towards the front door until he changed direction and forced the woman to continue to tread the stone pavement that connected the front yard with the back garden of the house.

The one she'd sold Draco was one of her personal favourites amongst the buildings scattered all across WizVille, or so she'd said, and over the outside in particular the man agreed: it was stunning.

The fiberglass inground pool was medium-sized, approximately 36 ft. long by 14 ft. wide, and his waters looked absolutely inviting even if it was the beginning of October; the pavement was bluestone, and it blended seamlessly into the lush vegetation of the back yard.

Over the wooden patio there was a divan sofa that together with the hammock on one side and the ottomans on the other created a private little corner in the otherwise very open garden, on top of which where the things he'd put there a couple hours ago, when he'd felt optimist over the possibility of getting home with the girl he fancied that night.

Sometimes he felt like a teenager, but perhaps it had to do with the fact he hadn't had much time to think about romance when he'd been what was deemed the appropriate age.

On top of the coffee-table sat a bottle that came directly from Lucius' personal supply, the one Narcissa only _suspected_ about, but which he'd discovered about, purely by chance, around the time Voldemort had moved into the Manor and his father had started visiting the place an awful lot, therefore getting busted by Draco.

Next to the expensive wine were two perfectly polished burgundy glasses, and scattered around the table some candles were burning, illuminating the otherwise dark corner.

He'd hadn't planned to actually come home this early, so the wax was barely starting to melt around the little flames; all things considered, perhaps he owed Gregory a _thank you_ for wanting her to go home sooner because of his big mouth.

Luckily for him, she hadn't decided to leave Blaise's on her own.

"I don't think there was ever a time you refused me a drink…", Draco trailed off, leading the way to the patio. "I hope you won't start now".

He waited for Hermione to be comfortably perched on the blue divan sofa before taking the sit next to her, and before a minute had passed he was already working with the bottle opener.

When the drinks were served, the brunette took a small sip out of her glass and moaned in pleasure. "I was going to say that it was selfish not to share this bottle earlier with the others, but scratch that", she said before having a much more generous gulp.

"Well, as much as I love my friends, this bottle comes from Lucius' personal stack, and I think he'd rather have me drinking it with a beautiful woman I'm trying to seduce", Draco confessed, winking at her before he set out on drinking from his own glass.

"Listen to that. Are you trying to seduce me now, Malfoy?", Hermione teased, finishing up and placing her burgundy glass on the table once more before grabbing the bottle and helping herself with a second serving. "I'll let you know you've done your homework. The wine was a nice touch".

"And the candles were not?", he smirked. "I'm glad you like it", he added, in a more serious tone, and even though she didn't reply directly to that, she flashed him a smile that made him wish to sneak a bottle out of his father's supply every night if it meant he got to see it again.

Lost in contemplation, it took him a while to realize her cheeks were turning red.

It never ceased to amaze him.

How she could be edgy, and bold, and dangerous, but at the same time she would blush like a schoolgirl if he stared for too long.

"I'm sorry", he apologized when he noticed that she was also starting to look uncomfortable. "It's just that… Umh, _wow_ -", he stuttered. "You're really beautiful. I mean, you're always beautiful, but I like what you're wearing", he managed to tell her, nervously scratching the back of his head as an embarrassed grin spread across his face.

 _Make it or break it_ – he told himself, and the thought seemed to calm him a little.

Hermione looked a little dumb-struck, but she recovered quickly and sent an unimpressed glare at her outfit, like it was something she'd thrown together last minute, and without much effort.

It was a look he'd noticed before in Narcissa's and Pansy's faces, and he possessed tangible proof that in those occasions the two witches had actually spent a considerable amount of time getting ready.

The woman then proceeded to finish up her wine for the second time, which added even more colour to her cheeks. "It's a shame I was thinking about taking my clothes off and help you inaugurate your pool", she said, slowly standing up as she started removing her jacket.

Draco noticed the nude high-heeled sandals for the first time as she unhooked the straps on her ankles, and now barefoot, she circumnavigated the coffee table and approached the point where the water begun.

The only thing the blond managed to do, as taken as he was with the private show she was putting up for him, was to stupidly knit his brows. "Don't you think it's a little cold for the pool? It's night, it's the fourth of October and we're in England", he postulated.

Not that he wanted to refuse whatever she was willing to offer to him, but tomorrow was a big day for the best friend they shared, and he knew Hermione would have regretted it if she missed it because of a cold.

"You hurt me, Malfoy", she said, her hands now disappearing behind her neck as she started playing with the thin straps tied in a perfectly symmetrical bow behind it. "As I mentioned when I gave you the tour of this house, all the pools come with a default spell on the garden that keeps the temperature around twenty-two Celsius degrees. Of course, you can disengage the spell and just stick to the regular weather the city has to offer. Follow the advice of someone who grew up here in London, it's not funny when it rains all the time", Hermione explained, exposing a little more skin at each pause between her sentences, until her clothes were in a pool at her feet.

On his part, Draco stood up and took a couple steps in her direction.

Turning her back to him wearing only her strapless nude bra and coordinated lace panties, she then took a hold of her slightly-below-the-shoulder hair and tied them up in a messy bun.

"Care to join me?", she asked, and to him it was a mermaid's lullaby.

Then the witch unhooked her bra with a quick gesture of her fingers, throwing it away as she dived into the water, never looking back.

It landed right at his feet, and Draco merely grinned at the piece of fabric as he undressed at the speed of light before joining her in the pool.

Perhaps there was a page in Lucius Malfoy's book that could still be saved.

 _Women melt for a compliment if it comes from the heart_.

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Lovelace Avenue n. 8, Obsidian Couture – London, England;  
October 5th, 2003, around 01:30 a.m. )_**

* * *

To be a good Auror one needed to apply himself and dutifully study the Code, but to be an excellent one, he or she also had to possess an excellent gut.

Or at least, that's the opinion Mina Jennings had created for herself over an entire teenage-hood of dreaming about entering the Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

Eventually her dream had become reality, only she hadn't been given a badge _per se_ and she moved in the shadows: over the course of the years, she'd realized she could have never done it any other way.

It wasn't much different than being in a muggle action movie, really; every-time she closed a case she celebrated by drinking a Martini and considered the idea of finding herself her personal _bond-girl_.

Possibly blonde, beautiful and with a great ass.

In the past ten days, since the very moment Minister Shacklebolt had granted his permission, the witch had gathered quite a bit of information about one Hermione Granger, and she had to say she was impressed with the things she'd discovered so far.

The new wizarding neighbourhood where she was currently located, for example, was something the woman had managed to accomplish over the course of just a couple of months, and with the press keeping extremely quiet about the whole ordeal.

People knew something bigger and somewhat _better_ than Diagon Alley was about to be realized in London before Christmas, but nobody had bothered to dig into the official records and connect the woman to everything.

In Mina's opinion, that spoke volumes about the quality of their papers.

Reporters were too busy finding out if she was dating, or speculating about her secret life in another hemisphere by recycling old Australian articles, a life which, she had to admit, had been quite eventful; Merlin forbid they'd waste their precious time investigating something worth knowing for the population, they were too busy telling the tale of how Cantankerus and Anastasia Nott had sadly given up on one of their children, and how the witch was reconnecting with her brother.

Over a week of reading into her past, it was clear for the woman that Hermione Granger (or Eloise Nott, or Victoria Sallow, or whatever other fake identity she had, just because her character wasn't shady enough already) had more secrets than she had hair.

Mina hadn't been surprised when browsing through her dating life: lonely but at the same time busy, definitely not an overall great experience.

As for her current situation, she'd had to go through _five_ different issues of WitchWeekly before discovering the woman had bought the paper and therefore the only information she could find there was what Ms. Granger allowed the world to know.

It was why she'd taken out of the shelf the copy of Harry Potter's biography that she'd bought the moment it hit the stores two and a half years before.

Back in the day she had ended up not reading it: she'd personally met the man and she'd already asked him what she wanted to know about the war, so she was more than happy to spare herself the more gruesome details.

The first wizarding war had been the reason she'd lost her parents as a child, the reason she'd been expelled from the wizarding world at the age of five and shipped to distant muggle relatives in South Africa, in a point of her life at which magic was very much part of her daily routine, at least as an excited spectator, only to be re-allowed into it as soon as she'd been old enough to attend Hogwarts and, to be completely honest, she'd started to think the things she'd believed being reality were only a product of her imagination.

As much as she hated wizarding society for cleaning their hands and leaving her alone for a period of time that had lasted almost six years, she'd still hated living with her uncles more, and blessed the castle the first time she'd set foot into it.

The official beginning of one's studies at Hogwarts was a crucial point in the life of an English witch or wizard, even though their families ended up sending them off to Durmstrang or Beauxbatons: it was a rite of passage that completely changed your existence, and Mina had no doubt it had been the same for Ms. Granger, too.

Half-way through the tale of their third year in the castle, the Ministry's employee had a clear idea of the kind of witch Hermione had been as a student.

It was very different from the one she'd put together both through her research and by meeting the woman face to face, but hopefully she was going to find some answers when she reached the part of Potter's biography that was most definitely going to be the biggest game-changer.

If discovering her magical ability at the age of eleven had probably completely altered the shape of her life, the things a war could do to such a young lady were appalling.

It was common knowledge, stories people inside the Ministry of Magic whispered about all the time.

Her first trauma had probably occurred when she'd been called _Mudblood_ for the first time during her second year: the event had been described with plenty of details, and Mina Jennings had genuinely felt sorry for her, to the point where she'd actually exulted when the same girl had punched the young Malfoy in the face heir after a couple of chapters.

He really _was_ an annoying prat.

Returning to the present, though, she thought it was peculiar that Ms. Granger and Mr. Malfoy now seemed to be in such friendly terms.

She assumed it had to do with the fact that Draco Malfoy was a very old, very close friend of Hermione's twin brother, Theodore, and she wondered if, to this very day, the sexual tension she'd noticed in Potter's narration was still lingering.

Something else was common knowledge, she was thinking as she sat on one of the benches and listened to the silence of the streets.

The neighbourhood was mostly inhabited, and only a few commercial activities seemed to be already operative.

To be honest, Mina quite enjoyed the architecture of the place.

She just couldn't understand why someone would spend so much money in realizing a new district rather than improving the pre-existing Diagon Alley _and_ be so secretive about it _without_ the situation looking shady.

The book was open on her lap, but she'd barely managed to read more than a couple of lines, preferring to enjoy the slight breeze dancing through the air instead.

There had been a feeling in her gut all evening, which was why after a day spent on reading information and compiling a dossier about one Hermione Granger, she was now using her scarce free-time to walk around her neighbourhood.

Mina sighed, looking at the watch on her wrist.

It was very late and she needed to be at the office at eight in the morning, so she decided it was time for her to return to her flat.

Putting _The Boy Who Lived_ back into her bag, the witch grabbed her wand and tried to remember the nearest apparition point.

She had to give Ms. Granger that, the entire WizVille place seemed to be reassuringly safe.

Determined to be home as soon as possible, the witch arose from her seat, but froze when she noticed that the lights were on in one of the buildings, though nothing suggested the one going on was a legal activity.

Forcing her eyes to focus on the fancy signboard in the entrance, the Auror noticed it recited "Obsidian Couture", a name that she was sure she'd already heard, and in relation with the only case she was currently following.

It took her a couple of minutes, and by the time she realized what exactly it meant in her investigation, Mina had already reached the other side of the road and she was now looking inside through one of the windows.

Inside there was a young woman who looked exceptionally busy: she was transporting two buckets filled with a liquid she couldn't quite recognize, and not far from her, many mannequins fitting beautiful garments sat on the shiny parquet.

Her movements were stiff and very mechanical, and when she turned her back on the Auror and took out her wand, pointing it at the buckets in front of her feet, Mina knew the blonde girl meant trouble.

Two spells ran simultaneously across the air.

" _Confringo_!" The contents of the buckets jumped in the air and on top of the clothes beautifully exposed on the mannequins.

" _Reducto_!" The shop's window shattered in a million pieces.

Mina entered the boutique without thinking twice, passing through the arch now present where before her spell there had been glass, but as she raised her wand at the back of the woman and opened her mouth to tell her to identify and surrender herself, the blonde girl emitted a weird sound and simply fell to the ground, violently hitting her head on the floor.

The Auror was by her side in a matter of seconds, so she didn't miss the halo darkening her eyes before they rolled backwards, as if they wanted to look into their owner's brain.

Someone out there had used an Unforgivable, the _Imperious Curse_ , on the witch in her arms.

The unknown girl took a breath that was deeper than the ones preceding it, and slowly opened her eyes again.

" _W-where am I?_ "

* * *

 **Author's notes**.

I'm so very sorry about how much it took me to update. Just the usual... _life got in the way_ , I'm sure you're all familiar to that. Anyway, yesterday I finally had my last exam for this session and now I'm all yours (kind of) until early September. So, yeah, more time to write this story and return to a more fast-paced updating schedules.

I'm currently half-way through chapter 30th - spoilers are available on tumblr for those of you who are interested -, and be re-assured I'm not planning on abandoning this story even if I've slowed down a little.  
I mean, I couldn't even if I wanted to: there's literally an ad with the faceclaim I picked for Hermione hanged in front of the exit of my condo, so the reminder is pretty constant, lol.

As usual, I want to spend a couple of words to thank those of you who are reading, putting my story in your followed/favourites and gifting me some of your time to review. It is extremely appreciated and I hope I'll do a job good enough for you to keep doing so. :)

Also, you can expect chapter 27th sooner rather than later.  
I still feel awful for how long you waited since the last update.  
Until next time, I hope you have an amazing day!

p.s. who do you think it's the _Imperioused_ girl? Let me know in the comments!

p.p.s. am I the only one who's _hardcore shipping_ Greg and Tracey?

p.p.p.s. last chance to vote on the poll on my profile regarding Draco and Hermione's little romantic trip, it'll soon be removed (and probably replaced by a new one).


	27. CLOUT

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **27.**

 **CLOUT**

 **.**

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Lovelace Avenue n. 8,  
Obsidian Couture – London, England;  
October 5th, 2003, around 06:30 a.m. )_**

* * *

To say that Pansy was not _pleased_ would have been the understatement of the century.

Today was the day she was finally stepping out of the shadows and doing something for herself, labelling it with her name.

She couldn't tell how the evening was going to progress, but she knew for a fact that the outcome of the party was going to be a life-changing experience type of thing.

From the nearest apparition point, and that would be at the beginning of Tabei Road, in the south bank of the magical river that crossed the entire WizVille complex, she'd walked slowly but somewhat steadily to reach her _soon-to-be-officially-opened_ fashion boutique, a plastic cup of muggle _cappuccino_ in her hand.

The sky was still dark, and the sun was yet to rise, but she hadn't managed to sleep that night, and in the end she'd decided to get ready and start sorting things out for tonight.

She'd started listening to her best friend's _very reasonable_ warnings too late, and now doubts were itching furiously in the back of her mind. Perhaps Hermione was right, perhaps it was really less risky to launch her brand in another country, where her last name and the things she'd done in the past couldn't come back to bite her in the ass.

On the other hand, the raven-haired witch wanted to succeed in England almost as much as she wanted to say _I do_ and spend the rest of her life with Harry. They just needed to decide on a date.

The witch needed to prove to herself that she wasn't the same person who'd left the country four years before; moreover, she wanted to show to that same country and the people who lived in it that Pansy Parkinson was going to contribute to society, and she was going to do it the right way: working, paying taxes, creating jobs and hopefully, someday, she was going to have a legacy, a good one, her children could inherit.

After being banished from prime and proper Pureblood society (and the things that were required of young ladies in such context, like marrying without questioning and producing heirs like they were _cows_ ), she hadn't given much thought to the possibility of someday getting pregnant.

First of all, before reconnecting with Harry and falling in love with him, Pansy had always been more attracted to girls than she was to boys: the relationship which had hurt her the most had been the one she'd had as a teenager with Daphne, and her heart was still scarred from it.

Secondly, she hadn't been in the right state of mind to simply take care of herself, back then, so she definitely hadn't had the time to make plans about the future, considering she didn't think she had one.

From the very first time he'd kissed her, however, Pansy knew she wanted to stay in Harry Potter's embrace for the rest of her life: his reputation was even bigger and heavier than hers, and it was pretty obvious, since he'd been deprived of his family as a baby, that someday he was going to desire children, and probably a lot of them.

They hadn't really discussed the topic yet, if not as a joke, but from her perspective marriage was the first step in that direction.

She didn't mind the thought of having a baby with him, _eventually_.

But how could she manage something that big, when apparently she couldn't even take proper care of her business?

Pansy's heart threatened to break when she turned the corner and entered Lovelace Avenue, her eyes rapidly scanning the street, searching for the amazing window-shop she'd personally styled for Obsidian Couture.

The glass was completely gone, if not from some of the edges.

Her eyes narrowed when she noticed there were people inside her store. They were all wearing Auror uniforms and badges with the exception of the women in the middle of the main room, the one you could see from the street if you simply looked inside.

There was one whose hair were almost as dark as Pansy's, tall and with a nice figure, her wand loosely hooked to the belt of her trousers, while the other looked distinctly younger. She was blonde and pretty and, most of all, she looked familiar.

Nearing the entrance with tears shining in the corners of her eyes, Pansy grabbed her telephone and took some pictures of the destroyed window-shop before walking through the main door, which was already open.

As she strolled down the short hallway and turned left, glancing once in the direction of the fitting rooms, which, to her absolute relief, had not been compromised, Pansy readied herself for what was about to come.

From what she had been able to see from the outside, it wasn't going to be pretty.

She couldn't believe she'd gone earlier to work to make sure everything was on point only to find _this_.

"What the _hell_ is happening here?", she gasped. "What happened to my… _what happened to my_ _dresses_?!", Pansy wailed, dropping her handbag on the floor and running towards the mannequins.

Most of her creations were dotted in a greasy, dense black liquid she'd never seen before. Much to her consternation, the witch realized that the fabric, in those points where it had been touched by the viscose substance, was now completely gone. It had been turned to ashes.

"Ms. Parkinson, I presume?", the thirty-something Auror who wasn't wearing a uniform asked, tilting her head up as she acknowledged her presence. "I'm Mina Jennings, I work for the Department of Magical Law Enforcement under the direct orders of Minister Shacklebolt", the witch introduced herself, offering a hand for her to shake that Pansy ignored.

Under normal circumstances Pansy would've known better than to make an enemy of a Ministry official, especially one closely connected to the Minister of Magic himself, but right now she was just too appalled and upset.

Moreover, she definitely didn't appreciate it when people tried to intimidate her, and that was exactly what this woman, Mina, was trying to do. It was going to rain _snakes_ before she allowed something like that.

"What happened here, Ms. Jennings?", she queried. "Can you please tell me why my boutique has been infested by Aurors and my dresses have been ruined the day of the opening?"

She spoke without bothering to make the right pauses between her words, nostrils fluttering dangerously as she took in the real amount damage she'd just received. Her eyes darted to the middle of the room, where the blonde girl sat on one of the shop's chairs, a blanket draped loosely around her shoulders as another Auror brought her a cup of coffee.

" _Who the fuck is she?_ ", she snapped at him.

Pansy was growing more mad as every moment passed her by.

She'd worked so hard and for so long… for _this_ to happen to her?

The unknown girl erupted in a sob and slowly turned her head, exposing her face to her wrath for the first time since she'd entered the room.

It was then that she recognized her, and now she was even more confused.

" _Summer_? Is that you?", she asked, walking at a fast pace in her designer heeled shoes as she approached the blonde witch. "What are you doing here?"

Pansy felt stupid after asking her question. The answer was obvious, but it necessarily elicited another query: _why_?

She'd offered a job to the girl, though through Hermione's suggestion, given her the opportunity to leave a place where she was so clearly underestimated, so it made no sense that she would deliberately tried to sabotage her.

She had no _motif_ , and Slytherins knew there was always a motif, no matter how graciously hidden, behind anyone's actions.

Mina Jennings cleared her throat from where she stood behind Pansy, and the raven-haired witch turned once again on her heels to face the woman.

"The girl has been _Imperious_ -ed", she said in professional tone. "There's a hole in her memories that starts approximately around thirteen hours ago, when she was kidnapped in a secondary street of Diagon Alley as she left her place of employment. We've looked at her memories", she added when she noticed the sceptical look on her face. She additionally pointed a finger at the Pensive that sat on one corner of the crime-scene, which two Aurors were currently busying putting it back into the case that usually transported it.

"Any ideas who could be behind this, then?", Pansy urged. "Does she have any memories of the people who cursed her?"

"Unfortunately not", Mina replied, pursing her lips in defeat. "You're lucky I was personally taking a walk nearby, otherwise we don't know what would have remained of this place, or the surrounding buildings. In the back we've found a supply of modified firecrackers. We'll need the _Pyro-Unit_ to analyse them before we can understand the entity of the damage they may have caused".

The Auror raised her hand once more, this time pointing at the box another Auror was cautiously putting into an evidence-bag he lately sealed off with magic.

"I'd like to receive the results of those analysis", Pansy stated. "I'll need them for the insurance", she explained when Mina cocked an eyebrow at her.

"Isn't it a bit paranoid to ensure a shop that isn't even open yet?", she inquired, a semi-invisible sarcastic smile painted on her very beautiful face.

"Yeah, well, until thirty minutes ago I'd have said the same, Ms. Jennings", Pansy complied, glaring significantly at their surroundings.

Most of her dresses were ruined, the boutique looked like a mess and there were Aurors and evidence bags practically in every corner, as well as a terrorized young lady crying on a chair. The blanket was sitting on the ground at this point.

"Every building in WizVille has been ensured", the Slytherin witch told the Auror. It hadn't escaped her attention that a DMLE representative whose role, position or authority hadn't been spoken out loud happened to be casually taking a walk in a neighbourhood that wasn't exactly opened to the public yet. To be precise, one the public wasn't supposed to know about.

Of one thing Pansy was sure: she didn't need Mina Jennings, or any other Auror for that matter, breathing down her neck. Not now, not _ever._

She wished Harry was by her side, but she knew he had the night-shift at Malfoy Manor and couldn't be there before at least nine in the morning.

She also wanted him to rest a little before her big night, if that was still going to happen. As of right now, Pansy wasn't feeling very optimistic.

"It figures", the Auror muttered, looking unimpressed, but whatever she was about to add, she was stopped by Summer, who raised from the chair, placed her now empty cup of coffee on it and threw herself at Pansy, grasping one of her hands and squeezing it with hers.

She felt like the whole thing was a little over-dramatic.

As much as she would have enjoyed having someone to blame, she knew the basics of Unforgivable curses: _Avada Kedavra_ was meant to kill, _Crucio_ 's purpose was to inflict an excruciating amount of pain to the target and _Imperio_ gave you total control over your victim, erasing her willpower.

Even by thinking about the three, Pansy felt dirty.

The curse used on Summer was the only one of them you could technically defend yourself from, but it was something only rather exceptional wizards and witches were capable of doing.

She wasn't sure if she could successfully oppose an Imperius herself.

"I'm so, so incredibly sorry, Pansy", the blonde sobbed, cheeks streaked with shiny tears. "I never meant-"

" _Shh_ -", Pansy hushed her, cradling the girl in her arms. "It's not your fault", she reassured her.  
 **  
**"I wish I could at least remember his face", Summer murmured quietly after some time, her breathing now slightly more regular.

"She didn't mention a _he_ before now", Jennings noted.

"It's possible her memories will return, at least partially", intervened of the Aurors, though this one, in addition to the uniform and the badge, also had St. Mungo's logo sewed on the front of his jacket. He was probably the Healer who'd checked upon the girl's condition. "You shouldn't suffer from any side-effects, but it'd be wiser if you take it easy for a couple of days. Your mind has been forced, and it will need some time to recover. I can schedule a check-up for you with one of my colleagues at St. Mungo's in a couple of days, unless you prefer to receive private assistance".

The man then said his goodbyes to the other members in the team, justifying his early departure with a call he'd received from another crime-scene, and walked away as he held his bag of healing tools in one hand.

"We'll wrap this up and be on our way, too", Mina Jennings called for her attention once more. "I'll make sure to bring to justice whomever is responsible for this", she said.

Though appreciative of the sentiment, Pansy couldn't care less.

She had a massive problem to solve and she had no idea how she was going to do it.

The only thing she could think about was that she needed to find the smartest person she knew and, _obviously_ , that was Hermione.

"I understand if you want to go home and rest, but if you'd like a promotion right away, get yourself comfortable and wait for me here. I could use some help if I eventually come up with a way to fix this mess", she offered to Summer. "I'll be back in thirty minutes", she added, more loudly, so that everyone in the room could hear her.

She hoped they understood what she really meant.

 _Please be out of here when I return_.

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Curie Road n. 8,  
Draco's house – London, England;  
October 5th, 2003, around 07:15 a.m. )_**

* * *

It was something that hadn't happened very often, but Draco loved the rare days he woke up like this: feeling completely recharged, with no thoughts on his mind other than the things he'd be very happy to do to and with the semi-naked witch still sleeping on his side.

He found her expression to be particularly peaceful when she was deep in sleep, one she rarely sported when her beautiful eyes where open.

His devoted contemplation of that mesmerizing look on her face was, really, the only thing allowing the young Malfoy heir to ignore the growing problem inside his underwear.

 _Boner aside_ , everything was perfect: the expensive sheets (courtesy of Narcissa) were thick enough to keep him warm, but almost as comfortable on the skin as the woman's back felt while pressed against him.

He was _spooning_ Hermione Granger and Pansy was smirking at him.

 _Pansy was smirking at him…_

Draco sat up on the bed, alarmed, covered only by the pale grey sheets.

His erection unceremoniously died.

As Hermione opened her eyes, stretched and visibly paled as her eyes fell on her figure, the best friend they shared whistled. "What do we have in here?", Pansy queried, but then she seemed to remember something dreadful, because she shook her head and, _were those tears in her eyes?_ , looked seriously at the pair.

"We'll have to post-pone the necessary teasing here", she announced, raising her hands as she gestured towards the space between them, creating small circles that followed the flow of her voice. " _It's an emergency_ ", she added, and Draco could remember very few occasions in which it had sounded so small and mortified.

Hermione had probably realized she meant every word she was saying, because without speaking a word she gracefully arose from the bed and walked towards his closet wearing only her underwear, quietly murmuring a simple "It's nothing either of you haven't seen already" when they both cocked an eyebrow at her.

"What happened?", she pressed, opening one of the wooden doors before she started browsing through Draco's clothing.

"Someone broke into the store and ruined most of my dresses tonight", Pansy sighed. "I couldn't sleep and Harry was working, so I decided to go to the boutique and make sure everything was fine. Someone used the Imperius Curse on the girl we've hired to make your dress for tonight, Hermione. They made her break in and ruin them with a substance I've never seen before, but it looked a lot like the _Draught of Living Death_ ".

The only Gryffindor in the bedroom immediately stopped her previous activity, walking towards Pansy to hold her in a quick embrace. "Find me something I can go out with", she ordered, giving a pointed look at the closet. "I'll take a quick shower and then we'll go fix this mess, ok?"

Without waiting for a reply, Hermione gave her friend a quick peck on the cheek and left for the master bathroom, which she entered from a door placed next the one that led to his bedroom.

She closed it behind her back, and Draco heard her entering the shower in less than a minute from then.

When he got back some grasp on reality, still half confused by the brusque way he'd woken up, and by the fact he hadn't had his morning coffee yet, he turned his gaze to Pansy, who was holding one of his favourite shirts in her hand, arms crossed.

She gave him a caustic smile. "Perhaps you may want to get dressed", she suggested.

Remembering his state of nakedness, Draco sent a panicked glance around the room, then to his semi-open closet. "Would you mind?", he trailed off, nervously scratching the back of his neck.

"It's nothing I haven't seen already", Pansy commented, unapologetically, but then she set out on the unspoken quest of gathering some clothes for him, too. She put together a pair of jeans and a sweatshirt he'd never worn before, decided on coat and even the belt when she abruptly stopped, and sent him a cheeky grin. "Where's your underwear, _Drakie_?", she teased in her best impression of Narcissa Malfoy.

Goes without saying, she wasn't very good at it, but he smiled at his friend anyway. It didn't take a genius to understand that she was seriously struggling, and he was determined to do whatever he could to help her.

That was what friendship meant for Draco Malfoy. Comfort in times of need.

"Third drawer from the bottom", he instructed, pointing his right arm, the one where both the covered Dark Mark and his house motto where tattooed into his skin, at the large dresser sitting on one side of the room.

When Pansy was finally in possess of the last item of clothing required, his socks, she pressed all of them minus the shirt she'd picked out for Hermione in a ball and threw it on the bed. It landed on his feet.

Some pieces fell to the ground, but boxers, trousers and sweater luckily arrived to their destination.

Putting his underwear on from beneath the sheets, Draco could then finally hop out of the bed, and this way he managed to get dressed in a very short period of time before he set out on finding the missing garments scattered on the floor.

"It's a shame you didn't look like that when _we_ dated", Pansy observed, "Life's unfair. Granger's got muscles while I got bones".

"Well, you know, Pansy, _fitness_ wasn't exactly huge amongst wizards. Besides, we were thirteen. I can assure you that you've changed a lot too in the past ten years", he teased back.

In that moment the bathroom door opened, and Hermione came out of it wearing his bathrobe.

The displeased look on her face reminded Draco of the time she'd confessed how much she hated speedy showers, preferring long, steamy ones instead, but it couldn't be only that. She'd probably had the time to properly wake up and reflect a little about the situation, realizing it was really _shitty_ , like he was just starting to do.

Once again, he cursed the absence of his morning coffee.

As if reading into his mind, Hermione flashed him a little smile. "We can grab some coffee on our way to Pansy's shop", she promised. "But for now…", she started, walking towards her friend and grabbing the shirt she was holding in her hands. She seemed to be satisfied of the choice, because she turned her head to Draco and nodded. "…I need you to put together every detail you have and tell me how can you know for sure that Summer was _Imperious_ -ed, not to mention _involved_ in the first place".

That being said, the Gryffindor returned to the bathroom, but this time she left the door half open, diving further into the room as much as it was needed for her to be completely hidden from both his and Pansy's sight.

The raven-haired witch took it as the sign she was intended to speak.

Accompanied by the sound of Hermione dressing up in the adjacent room, she dutifully complied.

Pansy spoke for what felt like a century, explaining them what she'd found when she'd arrived at her shop so early in the morning, and completely out of chance; the place had been full of Aurors, and they took orders, it seemed, by a woman she hadn't liked very much.

When she muttered her name under her breath like a curse, Hermione poked her head out of the door. " _Mina Jennings_ you said?", she frowned.

"Yup", Pansy nodded. "She didn't exactly say if she's an Auror or someone a little higher in the chain, but it looked like she was the highest authority in that moment".

"It's the same woman who interrogated me at the DMLE", the brunette pointed out. Her curls were constricted in a tight braid that cascaded on one side of her face, but some strains of hair had managed to escape, and they bounced around her delicate features as she started pacing the length of his new bedroom. " _I don't like her_ ".

"I don't like her either", Pansy agreed. Then she looked at Draco, as if she was expecting him to express his dislike for a witch he hadn't even met yet.

"You know I don't like many people", he compromised, and she seemed satisfied with his reply, because she turned her attention to her best friend, who was now waving her wand in the air, _Accio_ -ing the pair of shoes she'd been wearing the night before. With a disapproving look at her heeled sandals when they landed in her hands, she waved the wooden stick once more, and they shape-shifted into a pair of understated combat boots.

"How are your dresses ruined, exactly?", she queried as she put them on.

Pansy ignored her. "The interesting thing is the she admitted she was _taking a walk_ ", she air-quoted. "In WizVille when she noticed something was amiss. She's the one who broke my window shop, I think".

"I think it's best if we go there now", Draco suggested, not particularly enjoying the way the two witches often managed to push everyone else out of their conversations.

At least this time they were talking out loud: there were occasions the two would simply stare at each other, sending whatever message they needed to exchange with their eyes. It gave him chills.

"You're right, Draco", Hermione was the first to snap back into reality. "We won't get any answers by simply _chilling_ out here".

That was the last that was said before the trio finally exited Malfoy's bedroom, and eventually giving the wizard a chance to feel less embarrassed by the entire situation.

He'd suspected Pansy to be informed about how things had developed between him and Hermione, but his suspicions had never been confirmed. Until now. If the raven-haired witch hadn't had the time to get used to the idea, Draco was sure that her reaction to catching them in the same bed would have been much… _louder_. No matter the circumstances.

As they finished climbing down the stairs that led to the ground floor, Hermione detoured for a minute to grab the jacket she'd forgotten in the backyard patio the night before, and by the way Pansy smirked at the wrinkled dress she held in one hand when she returned, he now had no doubt that his best friend had been knowing about his new girlfriend for quite some time now, even though she had never mentioned it with him.

Not that Hermione herself knew he thought of her as his _girlfriend_ more and more as days passed him by.

The three left Draco's house and walked the distance to Obsidian Couture at a fast pace.

* * *

 ** _( Malfoy Manor: family parlour – Wiltshire, England,  
October 5th, 2003, around 08:15 a.m. )_**

* * *

"I think a white wedding would suit Pansy's colours a lot better, my dear, but of course the choice is up to you", Narcissa politely observed as she sipped from her cup of hot tea.

The china in her hands was probably worth thousands of Galleons, but she kept it in her hands as if she wasn't afraid of breaking it, and with ethereal grace.

Harry had been invited to join the woman for breakfast at the end of every night-shift since the beginning of his team's patrols of the Manor, and so far he was yet to decline for the first time.

There were times Draco would join, too, but today his childhood nemesis was nowhere to be seen.

His daughter was at the table with them, though, and he had to admit that she was truly an adorable kid: she was less _explosive_ than his beloved Teddy, but lovely nonetheless.

The former head of the Malfoy family, however, was a different matter.

On Narcissa's left, Lucius sat stiffly and kept his grey eyes firmly focused on the day's morning edition of the Daily Prophet, scoffing at this or that article from time to time. He hadn't said a word, acknowledging his presence only with a curt nod, which had barely managed to hide the grimace spontaneously spreading on his face at the sight of Harry.

Not that he could really blame him: he supposed that if he was Lucius Malfoy, he wouldn't have appreciated to see The-Boy-Who-Lived first thing in the morning either.

"We're still trying to figure out if we want a long engagement or not, I'm afraid", he replied. "I'm sure my _fiancée_ will be gorgeous no matter what season we're in when we get married".

"Of course she will", Narcissa nodded. "Don't you agree, Lucius?", she then addressed her husband, as if she was immensely tired of his silence.

" _Obviously, Cissy_ ", he uttered. His wife gave him an unimpressed look, and by that point Harry was struggling to confine his laughter to the back of his throat. She must have kicked him under the table, too, because his face contorted in a pained expression before he started speaking again. "Ms. Parkinson is a gracious young lady. She'll make a beautiful bride, Mr. Potter", he added through gritted teeth.

It was indisputable how much he'd struggled to find a way to compliment Pansy without sounding like a pervert, and even as he offered a tight circumstantial smile, prompted by Narcissa's nails sinking in his right arm, where he knew the Dark Mark will forever be resting, he didn't look particularly satisfied with the outcome.

Harry smirked. "I agree with you, _Lucius_ ", he said, amused by the way the older man's cheeks became red in disbelief at being addressed by his given name by a man the same age of his son. "Of course you'll be both coming to my wedding?", he queried, cleaning whatever was left of his breakfast in the corners of his mouth with a handkerchief.

In all honesty, Potter didn't exactly care about Mr. Malfoy attending the event, it was far from that, but over time he'd grown very fond of the wizard's wife, and her presence was something he wished for on his big day.

Unfortunately, Narcissa and Lucius came as a deal-package, and for the sake of having the former by his side, he was going to have to put up with the latter.

Not that he minded messing with him, from time to time. It was surprisingly funny and wickedly rewarding.

Finishing up his glass of Pumpkin Juice, Harry thanked Narcissa once again for her kindness. "The breakfast was exquisite", he said. "And your homemade cake is to die for", he promised, slowly but surely raising from his seat.

He still had fifteen minutes before he could leave, and he wanted to take a final patrol in the gardens. The Malfoy's ancestral home was impressive, extending for acres and acres of wild vegetation behind the Manor; as beautiful as the woods were, they also provided a multitude of fragile blind-points any offender could take advantage of.

As he kissed Narcissa's hand, a gesture which Harry had noticed the woman always welcomed with a gentle smile, the small Floo in the room lightened up in a twirl of green flames, and once they ceased Draco emerged from the fireplace. He seemed surprised to see Harry there, but he quickly recovered as he nonchalantly strolled towards the table. " _Ah_ , Potter! Just the guy I was looking for", the blonde announced.

Harry wondered what Draco could possibly want from him so early in the morning, and tilted his head on one side, inviting him to continue.

"There's been some issues with Pansy's shop. Your girlfriend is having a mental breakdown in Granger's arms as we speak", he said, and if Harry didn't know better, he would have thought the man to be genuinely concerned.

He was Malfoy, so the only thing he was supposed to care about was himself, _right_?

Harry wasn't prepared for the wave of nausea that hit him: he hadn't had a prejudiced thought in years and he felt ashamed of himself, but hearing about Pansy being any less than fine had instantly triggered his more defensive side.

Words couldn't easily resume how much he loved the woman he was going to marry, or the way she made him feel, but since the moment she'd re-entered his life and became the star of the show, the witch's well-being had become of the utmost importance to him.

Harry didn't give his love away very easily: his peculiar past prevented him from doing so and growing attached to just anybody. He'd suffered too many losses to do that.

Pinching the bridge of his nose, The-Chosen-One finally finished getting up from the arm-chair, releasing the pressure on his knees, and placed the cream-coloured handkerchief on the table, next to his now empty plate.

It occurred to him only now that the fabric proudly sported the Malfoy crest in one corner, in a forest green colour so deep it could pass for black in a quick inspection.

"What's wrong with Pansy?", he inquired.

In the meantime, Draco had moved towards his child, taking the toddler in his arms and kissing her " _Good morning, princess_ " on both cheeks. Averting his gaze from Adhara to place it on him instead, the blond gave him a sympathetic look. "I'll let Pansy share the details, but the short version is that most her dresses are ruined. The girl who did the manage was _Imperious_ -ed, but _luckily-_ ", there he paused, and his irony didn't go unnoticed. "There was an Auror taking a stroll nearby. She summoned a team from the Ministry and they've analysed the crime-scene, but so far we have no clue as to who could be behind this".

Harry listened to his recount with wide-eyes, and muttered a curse under his breath when the Unforgivable was mentioned. _That shit was serious_. "How is she?", was the first question he asked. "Is she still having the opening tonight? How's the girl that was involved? Did you recognize any of the Aurors? Could they trace the Imperious? Are they still there?"

"Slow down, Potter", Draco said. "Pansy's obviously in great distress right now, so I'd suggest you immediately go check on her. She meant to wait for the end of your shift to call you, but I think it's for the best if you get to her right now. Your girlfriend will answer your other questions", he added, and this time the tone of his voice didn't come out as irreverent. The blond turned his head to Narcissa. "Mother, you should come along, too. The girl that was _Imperious_ -ed is Summer".

"Dear Merlin!", the woman gasped. "Of course I'll come with you boys", she announced. "Let me go grab my purse", she said to no one in particular.

While Narcissa retrieved her bag and Draco ate some breakfast, Harry excused himself and rushed to the room that had been assigned to the Aurors taking care of patrolling the old Manor.

"Dean, Anthony", he called as soon as he surpassed the door. He didn't need to look around to know they were there.

The two were about to end their shift just like he was, and he hated himself for what he was going to ask of them.

"Over here, Potter", Goldstein drawled. "We were just finishing wrapping up our paperwork from tonight".

"Great job, guys. I know you must be tired as fuck but I'm gonna need one more thing from you before you leave", Harry announced. "Someone messed with Pansy's shop, so I'm going to apparate there as soon as we're done talking. Could you please wait for Ron to show up and update him on my behalf? We all know that bugger is never on time".

The-Chosen-One was captain of the team the other two men were part of, so he could have simply ordered them to do so and they would have had to comply, but that just wasn't who Harry was: Dean and Anthony weren't only his colleagues, they were also former D.A's members, not to mention he'd grown over the years to consider them friends.

He really was sorry about extending their shift, and he really did consider it a favour he was willing to return. "Is that fine with you?", he added as an after-thought. He did his best to ignore the glance both Aurors threw at the clock he knew to be hang on the wall behind his back.

"Sure, Harry. No problem at all", said Dean with a mild smile.

On his right, Anthony nodded. "We'll tell Ronald about the progress we made tonight. Do you want us to tell him to join you when he's done here?"

"That'd be awesome. I'm not sure why Ron takes the phone Hermione gifted us with himself, since he never picks up when I call", Harry complained.

"He never picks up when it's you that is calling", Dean countered, his dark-brown eyes shining with mirth. "You should see how he jumps on it when it's Lavender".

"I suppose you're right", Harry shrugged, and the three shared a good-hearted laugh as they all pictured many different occasions in which his wife had properly berated their ginger friend. "Thanks a lot, guys. Let me know if there's anything I can do to return the favour. I'll see you at the party".

Excusing himself, Harry rushed towards yet another Auror before leaving the room. " _Oi, Loughty_ ", he called, addressing a member of Ron's team. "Have another look at the gardens before you leave. I want a report on my temporary desk when I come in tomorrow", he ordered, pointing a finger at the piece of furniture for good measure when the wizard looked up from the documents in his hands with confusion. "Thank you".

Without waiting for a reply, Harry Potter turned on his heels and exited the room, walking the brief distance between the family parlour and the one the Malfoys had put at their disposal for the investigation at a fast pace.

Now that he was sure his job was responsibly taken care, he could finally worry about Pansy: there was definitely the need to, if even Draco was preoccupied. On the other hand, Malfoy was also one of her best friends, as far as Harry was concerned, so it was pretty logical that he'd care about what happened to her.

Five years of peace and a six-months period in which he'd been training the blond to join the Auror Department, but he still struggled with thinking of the former Slytherin as a normal person sometimes. It was weird, and he didn't know why.

His opinion of the wizard obviously wasn't the same he'd had when all Draco was to him was a childhood nemesis, one he'd desperately tried to turn into a villain in his head during their sixth year: Harry had been present when the Wizengamot had judged Malfoy after the war, and if that wasn't enough, he'd got the chance to know him on a more personal level when he'd returned to the wizarding world after the end of his probation; what he'd discovered was a man tormented by his past choices and pissed off with the world, but there was nothing left there that elicited his hatred.

If anything, Harry _pitied_ him. Spending half of your life believing in something and loosing everything in the process only to realize that something wasn't true, or desirable, and that you've been the worst kind of _stupid_ was bound to mess with the happiness of pretty much everyone.

Contact between the two had fizzled out shortly after Draco had resigned from the DMLE, so he had no idea what parenthood had done to him, if he'd changed for the better once again.

One thing was sure: if one year after the war had had the power to change him so much, Harry could only begin to guess what four more had managed to achieve.

Entering the parlour, Harry noticed that the table had been cleared out of anything breakfast-related, a single flowerpot filled with a hand-tied rose and lily bouquet sitting now in the middle of the wooden circular surface.

Draco and Narcissa were waiting for him by the fireplace, while Lucius and Malfoy's child where nowhere to be seen.

 _No surprises on that front_.

"I'm sorry I had you wait but I needed to make sure everything of importance was taken care about the Manor's protection", he apologized.

The blonde witch smiled, caressing his features with her aquamarine eyes for a second before talking. "There's no need for you to excuse yourself, Harry", Narcissa said, gently. "Draco and I are ready to leave whenever you want".

"We assumed we were going to travel by floo", Draco chimed in.

"I was going to propose we use apparition, if you don't mind. It's the fastest way we can get there", Harry objected.

"I'm afraid you forgot to add the walk to the front gates into your equation, Potter", the blond countered. "The wards prevent everyone without Malfoy blood to apparate into the grounds. It took me the whole month leading up to my hearing to figure out how to put them back in place after the war, I don't trust myself with tampering with them again now".

"We can ask one of the Elves to apparate us to the gates, their magic overrides the wards", intervened Narcissa. "It proved to be beneficial once already, after all".

She must have sensed the exchange was about to escalate quickly, and in all honesty Harry couldn't blame her: he bit back the sly remark on the tip of his tongue and nodded his agreement.

"Tipsy!", the woman called, firm but gentle at the same time.

A House-Elf appeared out of thin air with an audible _Crack!_ , and immediately bowed three times, at first in the direction of her masters and then Harry's. "What can Tipsy do to help Mistress?", she asked.

Harry had never heard an Elf with a voice quite this shrill, and he wondered if the one in his presence was the House-Elf equivalent of a child.

However, his question was bound to remain unvoiced, because Narcissa promptly answered. "I'm going to need you to apparate the three of us to outside the gates, Tipsy. Can you do that for me?"

Nodding enthusiastically, Tipsy offered her hand to the witch before inviting him and Draco to attach themselves to the chain.

Holding Malfoy's hand allowed Harry to explore levels of _cringe_ he'd never thought possible.

Luckily for him the Elf was quick in taking them outside, where the October morning breeze ruffled his air and tickled his face. "What now?"

" _Now_ you give me my hand back, Potter. If you don't mind", Draco smirked, but his statement only gained him a reproachful look from Narcissa and a dry chuckle from Tipsy, who paid her goodbyes and snapped her fingers once more.

Harry released the wizard's hand and waved at the tiny Elf as she disappeared. "I trust you already know where to apparate in Wizville from Hermione's party months ago?", he asked him.

Careful not to look at him in the face, otherwise he would have noticed the amusement on his face, The-Boy-Who-Lived internally _high-fived_ himself when Malfoy stuttered, his cheeks rapidly turning to a curious shade of pink.

He had it on good authority ( _Pansy's_ ) that there was something more than a casual acquaintance between the blond and his best friend, but he was missing the crucial details as nobody had bothered informing him: not Hermione, not Pansy – " _It's a secret I was asked not to share. Not even with you_ ", she'd said – and most definitely not Draco.

"Don't worry, I know where to go. I just recently bought a house there if you must know, and I'm the process of moving. Finding the store won't be a problem", he re-assured Harry.

Without speaking any further, Draco offered to Narcissa the arm whose hand wasn't busy carrying his wand, and quickly the two dis-apparated.

The raven-haired wizard shook his head and followed, landing near the smallest of the two parks that were part of the WizVille complex: he'd yet to take a tour of the whole place, but from what both Pansy and Hermione had told him, it looked like it was going to be pretty cool, and a major change in the way English wizards and witches imagined wizarding neighbourhoods.

The two Malfoys were patiently waiting for him to join them on the path that lead to where the street they were currently walking joined the one where Pansy's boutique was located. Not bothering engaging the two in small-talk, and appreciating when they refrained as well, the unlikely trio set out on the white stone sidewalk.

Approaching Lovelace Avenue, Harry held his breath and counted the civic numbers on his left until he saw number eight and allowed himself a sigh of relief. No matter how bad it was, Pansy didn't need to worry anymore.

He was going to do his best to make it better.

* * *

 ** _( WizVille, Lovelace Avenue n. 8,  
Obsidian Couture – London, England;  
October 5th, 2003, around 08:35 a.m. )_**

* * *

Pansy felt instinctively relieved when she spotted Harry's dark and forever messy, curly hair as he entered her store directly through the shattered glass of the window facing the street, which give away a nice glimpse of the immaculate interiors she'd worked so hard to achieve.

"I'm so happy you're here", she exhaled, throwing herself in the arms of her boyfriend and soon to be husband. How soon she couldn't tell, though, as they still needed to set a date. "I was afraid I was losing my head", she whispered in his ear when he captured her in his embrace, but it was only when he looked closely at her face and noticed her profound under-eye circles that he started squeezing her tightly.

The physical comfort was much appreciated: an hug from Harry always allowed her to pause reality for a second and take a breath of fresh air, which right about now she desperately needed.

"What happened, love?", Harry inquired, draping his hands around her shoulders. Placing a finger right underneath it, he tilted her chin up and looked at her in the eyes. "Don't leave out a single detail", he admonished.

She usually didn't appreciate being bossed around in such a manner, but she could see he came from a place of concern, and that the first thing he wanted to focus on was her safety. Perhaps she was over-thinking it.

It took Pansy ten to fifteen minutes to give the wizard a complete recount of the attempted (and partially succeeded) sabotage of tonight's _soirée_.

Meanwhile, Hermione had disappeared to the back of the store with the girl he'd discovered being called Summer after murmuring a quiet _Good morning_ to Draco and Narcissa, who awkwardly took their seat in what was left of her previously lush window seat.

Two major points of her story seemed to get her boyfriend's attention: the use of an Unforgivable suggested the involvement of a dark wizard, or at least of someone _so vile_ they'd do anything to achieve their goals, while the presence of one Mina Jennings, although providential, was quite peculiar.

Harry confessed he couldn't place her name on any of the faces that usually crowded the Department of Magical Law Enforcement, neither he could recall ever being introduced to the woman.

All things considered he was The Chosen One, The Saviour of the Wizarding World and for some time after the war he'd always functioned as the Ministry's herald during public political functions, so it was possible he simply didn't pay her any attention amongst the hundreds of people he'd spoken with during such events. Nonetheless, it fed her aversion towards the woman.

Shrugging the thought away, Pansy decided to share with him the piece of information she'd been holding back. She knew there was something shady about the witch, but she'd wanted proof before trying to discredit one of his colleagues.

"There's one more thing, Harry", she announced, sounding uncharacteristically demure. "Hermione said she's the same person who interrogated her a couple weeks ago".

"I'll look into it", Harry promised.

He was about to say something else when Draco's voice vibrated in the air in a low drawl. "Have you settled on a way to make it work?", he queried.

Pansy knew where he came from: twenty minutes before, when he'd left for the Manor to tell his parents that he was going to be out for the rest of the morning, things between her and Hermione had been rather tense.

The two were having a loud, passive-aggressive argument from which her blond friend had hurried to get away from, and the air had been cackling because of their anger-based fizzling magic.

"Hermione's brought the dresses that are damaged beyond repair in the back. I just start _crying_ every fucking time I look at them", she supplied, remembering the Malfoy matriarch's presence only after she'd voiced her mouth-slip.

Narcissa didn't seem to be bothered at all, and sent her a maternal, affectional glance instead. "Tell me if there's anything I can help you with", she said.

Pansy tried to smile at the blonde, but her attempt halfway turned into a sorrowful grimace. "Thank you for your offer, Narcissa. It's very kind of you", she replied. "But there's no need for you to bother with-"

The other witch waved her off. "I must insist, Pansy", she asserted. "Find me something to do. Until then, I'll be gone checking on poor Summer".

Not wasting her time waiting for an answer, Narcissa gracefully raised from her seat and in a swift twirl of onyx and silver robes she was gone, presumably directed to the back of the store.

"You still haven't answered my question", Draco urged. "But do tell me if there's something I can do to help, too".

"You and Harry could help me clean the window and set up the cat-walk, while your mother can later help me with the decorations, now that I think about it. Cordelia-", she struggled to let her parent's name roll out of her tongue, "She once told me Narcissa personally took care of it for the Summer Galas at the Manor, and I remember that they always completely enthused me".

"Sounds like a plan", the blond muttered, "What do you need the catwalk for, though?", he added, averting his eyes from her and looking at the low amount of mannequins that was left.

In the middle of the room stood only five mannequins out of the initial seventeen: among the twelve pieces she'd lost, because of her bad karma, there was not only her favourite dress, but also the one that was supposed to be the star of the show.

What remained of years of hard work and the courage of a lifetime were five garments which she wouldn't have saved had the choice been given to her.

One was a crochet white dress that wasn't necessarily bad, but could have used more work if only she'd had the time: considering it was originally meant to be an accompanying piece rather than a stand-alone, Pansy had decided to throw it into her collection anyway, and now she was immensely regretting her decision.

There were also two women's suits designed to be wore in a working-related environment, but while one was a bright fire orange and would have probably clashed with the wizarding robes most witches still sported in the halls of the Ministry, the other was black but definitely experimental, with multiple see-through cut-outs on the fabric of the blazer part of the two-piece.

Furthermore, she had a cocktail dress in Slytherin green, which she was now worried could be sending the wrong message: she'd simply meant for the garment to symbolize what she would put on for Yule Ball if she was to attend it today, but she knew there was a good change people would read more into the matter.

The last piece was one Pansy could say she enjoyed, a long, halter-neck gown with in a delicate shade of baby pink: the main target of her collection was to be accessible to real witches, to be relatable to the type of woman who, pretty much like herself, joggled frequently between the world with magic and the one without it; she intended to mix what could be saved of the old ways, which weren't exactly the best when it came to fashion, and the latest trends of muggle fashion design.

As she contemplated the idea of further embellishing the bustier of the baby pink dress to make it her statement piece, the two blondes returned from the back store with Hermione in tow. "Did you make any progress?", the latter asked, sending Pansy a pointed look. No doubt she was wondering if she'd discovered more about Ms. Jennings.

"Harry and Draco are gonna fix the window and set up the cat-walk", she said, repeating the plan she'd just barely put together. "If your offer is still valid, Narcissa, I'd love for you to take care of the decorations", she continued, and the witch promptly complied with a short nod.

"What can _I_ do?", Hermione queried.

"You can start by going to your house and grab the stuff you'll use to get ready for the party. Once you're back, I'm going to need you to take my phone and make sure everything else go as planned as I work on the dresses. For once, you'll be the one taking calls for me", Pansy replied, sending her a glance that left space to no objections. "Summer, dear, I will need you to help me in the sewing process. I'm gonna have to remake the most important dress that I'll send down the runway tonight while still getting together enough pieces to still call it a collection. Come with me, we'll get what's necessary", she prompted.

Leaving the room with her improvised assistant on her side, the witch allowed herself to breathe a sigh of relief when she heard everyone setting out on their assigned task behind her back.

For the first time since she'd arrived at her shop this morning, Pansy had managed to retrieve a shred of optimism: her big day was still going to happen.

* * *

 ** _( The Daily Prophet Headquarters, Diagon Alley,  
London, England ;  
October 5th, 2003, around 12:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

The semi-opened door allowed the noise of the entire editorial office to flow freely in the air and fill the silence of her own, but Rita Skeeter was too busy a woman to really pay any attention to it. She was happy to listen to the occasional bit of juicy gossip, but as of right now she had way more pressing matters to attend to.

Almost a month had passed since she'd resigned from WitchWeekly and returned to the place of employment where she'd worked for more than half of her life, The Daily Prophet, and she'd been pleased to notice that very few things had changed, and especially with the installation of the new chief editor, the charming man who'd made her dreams of glory possible again.

During the war she'd rode the _anti-Dumbledore_ wave, but in the aftermath of the conflict the choice had bitten Rita back in the ass: with Harry Potter defeating Voldemort and consequentially disregarding all her theories about the end of the conflict, Rita had lost the trust of most of her readers.

She still flushed with embarrassment and rage when she thought about the many letters (and even a couple of howlers) the Prophet had received that demanded her resignement.

After the Battle of May 2nd she'd been forced by circumstances to retreat and regroup, to patiently wait for the storm to pass while hidden inside the secrete alcove she'd managed to secure for herself by cashing an old favour.

At the time, Emmeline Travers had been executive director of the magazine most English witches followed religiously.

She'd used to be bullied, and reminding the woman of those times in the Slytherin common room where older kids would pick up on her because of the nasty scar on one side of her face, or of her general physical appearance, and the way she had personally stood up and hexed them on her behalf, Rita had exploited her guilt-trip well enough to get a new job during a time where nobody was hiring and she was the most hated woman in the wizarding world after Bellatrix Lestrange and Alecto Carrow.

Her peace had lasted five years, during which she'd been focused in rebuilding her fanbase and restore her reputation as a journalist, but just when she had been thinking about spending the last of her writing days in WitchWeekly, Hermione Granger had reappeared.

The hatred she harboured for the brunette witch was deeply rooted: after their first meeting Rita had simply thought of the then fourteen-year-old as a _not very-interesting,_ petulant girl who wasn't going to be much fun to write about, but after she'd been trapped by said petulant girl and kept in a jar for an entire summer… well, to say her that animosity had reached an unprecedented peek would have been an understatement.

Almost ten years later she'd bought WitchWeekly and put her brother in charge of the content printed on it, and that alone, for Rita, was a declaration of war intent. From her perspective, the new _speak of the truth and only of the truth_ policy didn't sit well with a tabloid that had become famous because of the _scandals_ it reported.

She'd wrapped up her shit as quickly and as quietly as she could, resigned from the position and crawled back to the Daily Prophet, where she'd been rather surprised when she'd been welcomed back with open arms.

The new chief editor, Mr. Culpepper, apparently knew nothing about her _history_ with both the paper's readers and many prominent political figures of wizarding Britain, but she wasn't going to address the issue until he brought it up. She wasn't stupid.

On the other hand, perhaps he did know what a controversial character she was and appreciated that of her.

Rita couldn't tell, but one thing was sure: the new editor was definitely an _eye-candy_ , and now that Dennis Creevey had distanced himself from her both in the working and in the private area, she urgently needed a new _toy-boy_.

Absorbed in her thoughts, she didn't notice right away when the girl from the front desk of the office knocked gently on the door the first time.

"Come right in", she grumbled after the second knock, not averting her eyes from the article she was revisioning for the evening edition of the Prophet.

"Ms. Greengrass is asking to speak with you, Rita", the newly hired secretary, Rebecca (or maybe it was Rachel), announced in emotionless tone.

Many of the younger people in the office seemed not to like her, but probably they were just fans of the war-heroes she'd had so much trouble with. At least, that's how she always dismissed the thought.

There was no way they could simply find her _unpleasant_.

Rita tilted her head up. "Bring her here", was all she said before she sat down the papers and sent her quill to rest on its box.

In the two minutes she waited for the secretary to return to the front desk and for her old acquaintance to reach her office, the blonde found herself positively curious as to what was the reason of Idabelle's visit. The last time she had seen her it was the night she'd been kicked out of Greengrass Manor, or so the members of the Pureblood Tea Society had been whispering when asked about the woman's unusual absence.

Rita hadn't tried to get in contact with her: friendship wasn't something life had taught her to valuate much, it was only a mean to an end. Especially when it came to Idabelle Selwyn.

The woman had never bothered to hide the fact Rita had been welcomed in her circle only because of the power she held as a reporter, or that she thought of her as a _lesser_ witch only because there happened to be a couple of Half-bloods scattered around the Skeeter family-tree. However, having her as an enemy was very dangerous in the spheres she liked to navigate, so she'd always kept quiet and smiled through her dislike.

Now the tables had turned, though, and Idabelle had moved from being the Lady of an ancient and noble House to… well, nobody knew _exactly_ what had happened to her.

It was partially the reason why Rita was so thrilled to see her, with the other being the fact that the other woman herself was going to be aware of her newly-appointed position of inferiority. She would have never risked her pride by showing up at her office if she didn't have something big in her hands and some kind of a evil plan, the thought of which made the blonde all the more excited.

The door opened, and she put on the best fake smile of her repertoire. "Idabelle, _dear_ , it's been a while", she greeted. "How have you been?"

Each word she spoke bruised Idabelle's _façade_ of coolness a little more, and Rita thoroughly enjoyed to see her squirm.

There was nothing different in her appearance at first sight, but with a more careful analysis she started to notice little imperfections in the way her clothes were tailored or her make-up was applied to her face, not to mention the hideous up-do that was supposed to cover the grey regrowth at the roots of her hair.

 _HairDye-Potions_ were rather expensive, and that fact on its own confirmed her suspicions about the fall of the mighty Idabelle Greengrass: she was scraping the bottom.

"I'm providing for myself. We can finally say we have something in common, Rita", the other woman sniffed. Her disgrace hadn't been enough to erase her entire personality, apparently. "As well as, I have to reason to think, a common _enemy_ ".

 _Now_ she was interested. "A common enemy, you say?", she repeated, her smirk slowly turning into a circumstantial smile.

She had a very specific guess as to who that could be, as she'd noticed how things had started degenerating when that particular person had started challenging Idabelle in her own home, and she quivered in anticipation.

"I want Hermione Granger to go down. I want the entire House of Nott to go down", the other stated, coolly. "I want to teach my nephew and niece a lesson, and I think you would be the perfect partner to achieve that goal".

It sounded too good to be true.  
 _  
How were they going to do it, if there was even a way?_

Rita had recently spent a lot of her free-time trying to find dirt about the only female component of the Golden Trio, or even her brother, but besides from the notorious connection of their father with the Dark Lord, which had been a staple in papers for the last couple of months, she was yet to find something useful.

"I assume you already have a plan", she said.

"I happened to be walking down the street where Astoria's apartment is located when I noticed an owl waiting on the windowsill. It would have been rude of me to let the poor animal wait any longer", Idabelle explained as she covered the distance between herself and the desk and took a seat in the spare chair in front of the reporter. "It's your free pass for a very exclusive party that will be held tonight to celebrate the opening of Pansy Parkinson's fashion line. As you may know, the two of them became close friends in the past five years".

The disdain with which she'd talked of the daughter of one of their mutual acquaintances, Cordelia, didn't go unnoticed.

Rita eyed the envelope Idabelle had taken out of the pocket of her coat. "Is there something in particular that I should look for?", she asked, extending one arm above the desk.

The other witch sneered and placed the invitation in her hand. "Keep your eyes open for anything that might mean trouble for my nephews or the people they care about. What would be most helpful is for you to find out _who_ those people are. I believe I'll have something ground-breaking to read in the Prophet very soon".

* * *

 **Author's notes**.

I'm feeling kind of sentimental as I write this, considering I started posting this story one year and two days ago. Back then I had three, maybe four chapters written, but today I'm posting the 27th and I've already started writing the 31st.  
Since I feel awful about making you wait so long, expect to see the next chapter online around Monday, while tomorrow I'll be updating my tumblr and answering the reviews to the last chapters.  
You're always welcome to let me know what you think of the story so far either with a review or on tumblr, I love talking to you about where the plot is going and I don't really have a preference.  
Before I leave you, I'd like to thank you all for dedicating some of your time in the past 367 days to read my story up to this point. _It feels awesome_. If you ever feel like trying writing your own fanfiction, whatever the fandom/trope/genre may be, _please do so_. Worst case scenario: you never publish it but you had fun.

Have a lovely day and I'll see you soon! :)


	28. 7 RINGS

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **28.**

 **7 RINGS**

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 ** _( WizVille, Pankhurst Lane n. 9,  
The Pavillion – London, England;  
October 5th, 2003, around 22:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

The launch of Obsidian Couture had been as much of a success as it could, given the circumstances: Pansy had thought the ruining of her dresses and the break-in to be the _worst-case scenario_ , but as it turned out, she couldn't have been more wrong.

There was only one word capable of describing what had happened, and it was _sabotage_ : at first, it was the catering service that sent the wrong number of waiters, half of how many there were supposed to be, and a single, _underqualified_ chef; then, around noon, phone calls started to come and one by one the suppliers stepped out of their deals and refused to provide the refreshments; at six o'clock the models who were supposed to walk the runway that evening were already late by more than a hour, and it had quickly become clear that they were never going to show up.

Hermione had stood right by her best friend's side through all of it, dutifully answering her phone as she'd been asked while simultaneously helping Pansy solving whatever problem had come up – _they'd been many_.

Luckily enough she'd managed to figure most things out and prevented her dark-haired friend from having a heart-attack, but that didn't mean that she was allowed to rest, yet.

The buffet had been saved by sending the House-Elves of Nott Manor to get all the groceries needed by the chef in different parts of the country and paying them what was supposed to be given to the suppliers, while the lack of waiters had been solved by changing their disposition around the room.

Models cancelling last minute had been the problem she'd struggled the most with, but eventually Hermione had come up with a solution: she'd called Parvati, whom she remembered made a living for herself with precisely that occupation, and twenty minutes later her former roommate had arrived, accompanied by three more girls.

When she'd asked Pansy why she hadn't engaged Patil's agency in the first place, the witch had strongly felt the urge to hex her best friend when discovering the reason: _she simply couldn't stand Parvati_.

Not that she blamed her, of course, as the girl wasn't one she particularly liked either, but she definitely condemned the lack of rationality: there was no space for personal sympathies in the working environment.

She'd been petty and she'd paid the consequences: because of the last-minute aspect of the deal, Pansy Parkinson was going to be compensating the four models an exaggerated amount of money.

During the day she'd been too busy to really pay attention to the strange events of the day as well as the so obvious co-operation of the wizarding world in not letting the former Slytherin succeed, but now, as Hermione sat on a comfortable couch in the club where the after-party was taking place, slowly and carefully sipping her cocktail, now it was the time to put her mind to work and solve the puzzle.

 _Who could have so much interest in dragging Pansy down?_

The former Gryffindor had managed to sneak away from her family and friends and retire in a semi-hidden alcove on the second floor of the building.

It wasn't open to the public yet: _The Pavillion_ was a night-club in WizVille that was the product of her collaboration with an old acquaintance, Seamus Finnigan, already owner of a very successful pub in Diagon Alley, _The Lion's Den_.

When designing the neighbourhood, Hermione had quickly realized that many of the shops she needed to open there already had more or less established correspondents in the old wizarding venue, and where possible she'd opted for an alliance.

 _Weasley's Wizard Wheezes_ were soon to officially expand with a third store at number eleven of Pankhurst Lane, while _Fortescue's On-The-Go_ was going to be located at number seven, close enough to the restaurant where she'd had lunch with Draco, and it had been inspired by muggle ice-cream trucks.

The only complex that was already fully in motion was the MagiTech Headquarters, which she'd needed to put to work ahead of time to ensure everything else was going to run smoothly once the moment came.

Obsidian Couture had acted as a sounding board in that sense, and the results weren't those she and Pansy had hoped for: vandalism, resistance, _sabotage_.

There was more work she needed to take care of if she wanted the launch to be successful, and it was partially the reason she was passing the fancy after-party to which only the two women's inner circles, with the two dramatically overlapping, had been invited, by hiding from sight and social interaction.

Hermione didn't feel like celebrating. People from very different positions were openly opposing her best friend, and every thought of the future was now turning into the same tragic scenario: not only she'd disappeared from England and completely disconnected from her status of war-heroine, the only thing which could've helped her by now to gain some credit in the eyes of the public opinion, she'd also publicly claimed her birth-right and admitted she was, indeed, of Nott blood.

Purebloods nowadays were hated by the small-folk just as much as Death-Eaters had taunted whomever didn't belong to a magical family: it didn't matter she'd fought against and never believed in blood-privilege (or any form of privilege that didn't come from someone's merits and oppressed those who didn't possess it), all the papers had been able to write in the past months, after she'd publicly came clean with _both_ her other identities, was that Hermione Granger had secrets and could not be trusted.

She'd have appreciated the _irony_ , really, since she'd put her life on the line at the age of seventeen for the freedom of the very people who read said magazines, if only it didn't hurt so fucking much.

It seemed to be the story of her life, a destiny frozen in time and space that repeated itself endlessly: no matter what she did, many were going to _criticize_ , some were going to _hate_ , and most were going to _judge_.

The thought had accompanied her throughout the entirety of the day, lingering in the back of her mind as she'd busied herself helping her best friend, but hitting her square in the chest when she'd finally relaxed a little.

She was definitely not in the right mood for a party, which is why she huffed rather loudly when she heard footsteps approach her from behind.

"I come in peace", a familiar voice quipped.

She didn't need to turn her head to recognize it. "What do you want, Pansy?", she sighed, not averting her gaze from the glass in her hands.

The ice-cubes that were supposed to keep her drink fresh had melted completely, and her pink cocktail was now irreparably diluted, the small slice of lime a castaway navigating the surface of the liquid.

Hermione had long decided she wasn't going to drink it, and it was an absolute bummer: not wanting to go back into the crowd, she'd deducted to be her only option that of staying hidden there, in the alcove, for most of the party, alone and mostly sober.

Or maybe not.

What she immediately recognized as a classic bottle of Odgen's Finest entered her field of view as the other witch swung it in front of her face.

Pansy climbed over hers one leg at a time and sat beside her on the small couch. "I want to celebrate, obviously", she said. Odgen's Finest was popped open a second later, and the woman returned the small bottle-opener in her hand to the pocket from where she'd retrieved it a second before. "I still can't believe it… _I_ did it!"

"That you did, sweetheart", Hermione smiled at her. She was happy for her friend, she really was, but her joy was not entirely pure. Doubt was crossing an enormous dark line right in the middle of it. "I'm proud of you", she said, and she meant it one-hundred percent.

The dark-haired witch raised the bottle she held in her right hand in a silent toast before taking a generous sip. Her eyes watered and her cheeks puffed because of the burning sensation that was inescapable when drinking FireWhisky.

"Salazar, this _shit'_ s strong", Pansy complained as she passed the bottle to her. "Anyway, before I get so wasted I won't even remember my name, and trust me, that's exactly what I plan on doing…", she trailed off with a dreamy look in her eyes, and the brunette wondered if she should take into account her last statement, because the Slytherin already looked, and frankly sounded, quite smashed.

"Yeah, so?", she urged. Hermione placed the glass with the diluted cocktail on the floor and turned her attention to the bottle in her friend's hands. After the first sip she admitted that yes, it was indeed rather heavy on the throat, but somewhere around the third she stopped caring.

"I couldn't have done it without you", Pansy quietly said. "I wanted to _thank you_ , Hermione. I know you had a thousand more important things to think about before-"

"I've found there aren't so many things that are more important to me than you", she interrupted, returning her the bottle. "You don't need to thank me for anything, really. What you accomplished today was all because of you".

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I'd normally argue with you on that, but now we don't have time for such a thing. What I meant is that you've been helpful in more ways than just organizing and re-organizing tonight. Thank you for sticking by me when things went downhill, even though you'd warned me it could happen".

She was right. Hermione had been rather loud in voicing her concerns about Pansy's decision of anticipating the launch of Obsidian Couture and make it its own independent event, but even though a small part of her brain had been itching with the need to scream _I told you so_ for the majority of her day, she hadn't succumbed to the impulse.

"I never imagined it could be _that_ bad", she conceded. "Was I concerned about the press turning your big night into a _shit-show_? Well, _of course_ , but I never thought someone would use an _Unforgivable_ with the purpose of ruining it, not even in my wildest dreams".

"My hope is that the Aurors will solve the case quickly and I'll be able to move on, but with everything that's been going on lately I don't think they'll give it much attention, especially since it won't be Harry the one who handles it", the dark-haired witch mused. "But that's a problem for tomorrow, isn't it? Tonight, _we_ celebrate".

Sitting in companionable silence, the two women kept passing each other the bottle until it was half-way empty.

"You're _very_ welcome, by the way", said Hermione after a while, placing Odgen's Finest next to the previously abandoned cocktail glass.

It didn't matter what karma had planned for them.

There was no way they could get through any of it without each other.

* * *

Sometime later, Pansy made Hermione promise they were going to see each other again by the bar and returned to the party, where she was quite surprised when she found out just how easily people were mingling, laughing together, toasting and sharing their personal stories.

Pansy hadn't _dared_ hoping in such an outcome.

She knew it was dangerous still to put so many Slytherins and Gryffindors in the same room: she'd been worried the old prejudices could come up and make people tense, but perhaps the only one who still carried them out was herself.

She justified her anxiety over the issue with the fact the guest-party of her wedding was going to be pretty much the same, and she really didn't wish for the third wizarding war to start right there and then, but it was more than just that.

Pansy had, to simply put it, had enough.

She was tired to see her friends banished from most public places in wizarding London, to look at the " _Death Eaters cannot enter_ " signs that so many shops displayed and powerlessly watch as they grimaced and struggled to keep their head high.

Everyone in their group had been rather _candid_ in their youth as to where they were standing regarding the war and the people who they'd believed were worth lesser than them.

With the exception of Theo, whose mother had never been a blood-purist and therefore had distanced himself from such beliefs at a very young age, they'd all called people _Mudbloods_ and occasionally sprouted some elitist bullshit.

 _Salazar_ , she'd even tried to deliver her husband-to-be to the Dark Lord!

But they'd paid for their mistakes, some of them with interests, and it wasn't right that to this day, more than five years later, they were still the political culprit for malcontent.

Even a mere association with _Slytherin_ as a House was frowned upon, and that, as she'd always been very proud of her allegiance with it, was perhaps what she disliked the most: Merlin himself had been sorted there, and the same went for many other remarkable witches and wizards during the course of centuries; furthermore, at the end of the war only one student in Hogwarts, Draco, had _His_ mark on the forearm, and he'd received it under life-threat for both himself and his mother.

Not to mention there had been families notoriously belonging to different Houses, even _Gryffindor_ , who had openly supported Voldemort when it looked as if he was going to win the war.

It wasn't fair.

They shouldn't have been on the receiving hand of all the blame only because Tom Riddle had been a Slytherin in his time.

They'd been wrong, that she'd realized the moment she'd tried to turn Harry Potter in, but there wasn't much they could do to change that, besides from publicly admitting their mistakes, which, in one way or another, every member of her inner circle had already done.

Draco had dutifully served his year of probation with muggles and returned as a changed man, and he was the loving father of a child he'd had with a muggle woman, so that was enough to line him out of the list of purists.

She'd lived with muggles, too, she'd been disowned at the age of eighteen because she'd decided to fight against everything that had been taught her, and Cordelia had made sure it went public. Her goal had been to forever disgrace her in the eyes of Pureblood society, but at that point Pansy had long stopped caring what they thought of her.

Theo was condemned even though he'd never been a racist, at least not where Half-bloods and Muggle-borns were concerned; thanks to his father's precepts, it had taken him an embarrassing amount of time to realize muggles weren't _cavemen_. However, Cantankerus was a notorious Death Eater, therefore Theodore was frowned upon everywhere he dared to go.

Blaise had belonged to a neutral family, teasing people of inferior blood-status only because he hadn't really known a different way to approach them (none of them had), or at least until Helen Zabini had married for the umpteenth time in their fifth year: unluckily her new husband had been a fervent Voldemort supporter, and the man had tried everything he could to make Blaise take the mark, eventually forcing the young wizard to flee from the very Zabini Manor he owned lordship of after the death of his father.

Goyle had turned his life upside down after the end of the war – and, as they all suspected, _Crabbe's death_ –, marrying the only Slytherin in their year who wasn't a Pureblood, Tracey Davis. He lived in muggle London and spoke of his younger years with nothing but shame.

Daphne and Astoria were perhaps the two who had it better: Lord Greengrass had claimed neutrality in both wars while secretly financing the Order, and he was notoriously one of the most progressive Purebloods of her parents' generation. Though she'd never defected her husband in public on the issue, Pansy suspected that Idabelle Selwyn to have a rather antiquate opinion: while Astoria had never cared about blood-status, someone had definitely taught Daphne who to deem _appropriate_ company according to the old ways.

It was the very reason their group had come to be, that and the fact there was just a certain number of Slytherins in their year: with no way to know for sure, chances were that if they weren't introduced by their parents – all their mothers had been on the committee of the Pureblood Tea Society at some point during their childhoods, and some of them still held the position – their paths could have never crossed.

She was glad they did.

Over the years the list of people she considered her friends had stretched and grown many times, but one thing was unchanged: she was fiercely protective of the people she loved.

Which was why it didn't sit well with Pansy to know that her best friend was all by herself on the second floor, but she was also aware that nobody nor anything could sway Hermione if she was feeling unsociable and therefore she was going to have to find a way to deal with the thought.

Since one was momentarily not available, she set out on the quest of finding her other best friends: _who else could she possibly want to celebrate her success with, if not the people who'd stood by her side through good, bad and worse?_

Thanks to the more reserved aspect of her party – she barely reached fifty guests, and the Weasleys on their own were a family of ten if you counted Fleur and Lavender – and the colour of Draco's hair, whose peculiar platinum shade made the wizard recognizable even in a room full of blonds, it wasn't hard for Pansy to spot her lifetime companions.

Malfoy was lounging with Theo, Blaise and their respective girlfriends in what she would have called a strategic position: between the bar and the dancefloor, it was nicely close to the music, but it still allowed for conversations to take place if that was their wish.

From the amount of empty glasses on their table, though, the witch doubted they were actually able of communicating properly.

Pansy memorized their location and took a brief detour to the bar, where she ordered her favourite muggle cocktail, a blackberry gin and tonic, before finally approaching her friends.

They didn't notice her at first.

"…So Coach Morrison told Virginia to stop, and I quote, _whoring herself in nightclubs and show up in time for trainings_ , otherwise, and I'm quoting again, _serious measures will be taken in regards to her lack of discipline_. I'd file an official compliant if I was her", Ginny snorted. "She has no right to speak to her that way- _Oh, Pansy_! There you are!", she greeted the dark-haired witch with a big smile when she finally saw her.

"Hey, guys. I'm positively knackered", she said with a small smile to no one in particular before she occupied the only empty chair that was left at the table. "What did I miss?"

Blaise came to her aid with a smirk, true to his gossipy nature. "The _Patil-Goldstein-Patil_ story has been recently updated with a new chapter", he announced.

" _Allegedly_ , Anthony has been in love with Padma for years, but she's been giving him spades since Hogwarts, so he decided to try and date Parvati instead", Draco chimed in, not superior to that kind of _trash-talk_ , either.

"They were together at the reunion. Padma looked livid, now that I think about it", Ginny added, thoughtfully. "The twins had a major fight".

"And they stormed off the Great Hall with Anthony in tow", Luna concluded, though her tone seemed that of a muggle weather-person on the tv, and one that wasn't very invested in his job at that. Gossip wasn't probably a hobby of hers.

"Where's the novelty?", Pansy chuckled and gracefully sipped at her cocktail.

Zabini frowned. "Well, we've all seen the fight, but they had a _Silencing Bubble_ around them and nobody could hear a thing. No doubt the work of the Patil who was in Ravenclaw, since the other is _dumb as fuck_ ", he said, and nobody bothered correcting him on the last sentence. It was a shared sentiment amongst all the four Houses. "The big plot-twist was tonight, when Goldstein showed up with Padma instead of Parvati".

She still couldn't understand what they were so excited about. "Was there another fight then, perhaps?", she queried. "If so, I do hope it didn't happen in my shop. It was _vandalized_ once already".

"Nothing like that happened. Parvati can be a total _bitch_ , but she would never cause a scene while she's working", Ginny supplied, half-smirking behind her flute of champagne. For someone who'd grown up with notoriously limited resources, over the years she seemed to have developed quite a refined taste. "Surprisingly, she's smarter than that".

"Besides, I don't think she cares", Theo added, finally joining the conversation. He wasn't usually one to participate in this type of conversation, much like his girlfriend, but there was a glint of mischief in his eyes as he stared at a point behind her shoulders. "It looks like Krum has already dumped Cho Chang".

After that, his friends all tried, some more discreetly than others, to turn in the direction he was facing and find out just what exactly he was so interested in looking at.

It didn't take long for Pansy to figure it out.

She had _the eye_ for such things. "He's with Parvati!", she gasped, almost chocking on her blackberry gin and tonic, when she spotted the Bulgarian Quidditch player and their former classmate looking quite cosy as they danced together, wrapped up in a tight embrace. "Now, _that_ is a nice piece of gossip. Good job, Theo", she complimented her friend, turning her head and sticking her tongue out at Blaise, smugly.

Zabini rolled his green eyes. "Excuse me? I'm the one who provided all the _background_ story here", he protested, though she could tell he was just teasing.

"I already knew everything up to their fight at the reunion, considering I was there, too", she countered, continuing to quietly sip on her drink. "Seriously, guys. Hermione had your entire theory put together before she even left for Australia the next day", the witch chuckled.

The alcohol-induced euphoria was finally starting to _kick-in_ , and she knew that she was in for an eventful ride: while she didn't mind the occasional glass of wine over dinner and she and Harry consumed large amounts of weed, Pansy was a light drinker.

She didn't need much to take off her edge, half a bottle of wine and she was _wasted,_ and the alcohol always burnt in her chest even if she was having Butterbeer, so she usually kept check of how many glasses she'd had and stopped drinking before things got too out of her hands.

Tonight was a different matter, though.

Surrounded by her friends and thoroughly enjoying herself in their company, the _I've-made-it_ feeling she'd so scarcely experienced in her life finally started to settle in. And it was glorious.

"It's not fair! Hermione was friends with Padma back in Hogwarts", Ginny said, pouting. "Maybe she knows something that we don't".

"Fair enough", Draco chimed in, slightly bowing his head at the red-head. "It would make sense for Patil to ask advice to her friends about Goldstein, considering he was quite the _player_ back then".

"Padma was hardly the type to fetch someone and talk her heart out", declared Luna, whom having been a Ravenclaw had a little more insight on the matter, or at least on the wiser Patil's habits. "I wouldn't say she had many friends, her connection with the other students was more on the level of mere acquaintance. Hermione was simply the student in your year with the highest grades, and they were both extremely dedicated to their academics, so they sometimes shared notes or books and studied at the same table in the Library. I joined them a couple times and the two of them weren't particularly close, I can assure you".

"I honestly don't remember much about her from our school days", Ginny muttered. "She was just Parvati's twin to me", she shrugged.

The blonde witch smiled knowingly. "And to me Parvati was just Padma's twin, or at least before the D.A.'s meetings started".

"Isn't that the Defence club you had in our fifth year?", Blaise asked.

Pansy snorted. "Thank you for the invitation, by the way".

"Like we would have accepted it", Draco retorted. "In hindsight, I think we'd have benefited from some additional duelling skills", he added as an afterthought.

"You tell me", Theo sighed. "All Father ever bothered to teach me are dark curses", he shared, his mouth loosened a little because of the drinks he'd had. The Nott heir wasn't usually a particularly open person. "As you may or may not know, that specific strain of magic doesn't generally work if there's not the most wicked intent behind it".

Ginevra – who belonged to the Weasley clan, which had notoriously renounced to the Dark Arts centuries before and therefore was not familiar with the matter at hand – blinked. "That would be?"

" _The wish to cause harm_ ", her boyfriend supplied, quietly whispering the words.

It took the group thirty minutes to wrap up the discussion: after a quick glimpse on what the childhoods of the Slytherins at the table had been (unsurprisingly, they'd all been introduced to the dark arts at a very young age, even though none of them had ever practiced them if not compelled to do so), the conversation shifted to the less tragic topic of their fifth year, the fourth for Luna and Ginny, as students in Hogwarts.

Pansy talked, laughed, reminisced and toasted with her friends, and she was immersed in all four activities at once when her boyfriend found her and joined their table accompanied by his best friend, Ronald Weasley.

* * *

The two men had spent the first hour and a half of Obsidian Couture's after-party by sitting together at the bar, with the occasional old acquaintance passing by and exchanging a few formalities with them.

Harry and Ron had managed to keep every interaction with their once schoolmates below five minutes, much to the relief of both men: the former wasn't a fan of socializing, what with people constantly trying to get a picture with _The Chosen One_ , or his autograph, and paying small to zero attention to what he actually had to say to them, while the latter wasn't exactly comfortable inside of a crowd composed mainly of Slytherins.

If there was someone who still struggled with letting go of the old prejudices and the antagonism who'd thrived during the second wizarding war (but really the sentiment had merely staid silent after the first downfall of Voldemort), that would have been the youngest of Arthur and Molly's sons.

Harry wasn't sure why, but it was clear his ginger friends was still bitter about the whole thing.

Not that he could blame him, there were still some Death Eaters on the loose, and people who hadn't actively participated in the conflict but supported the Dark Lord's ideals anyway.

Those things pissed him off, too, but, in his opinion, he'd found a better way to deal with his trauma and overcome his issues.

For instance, The-Boy-Who-Lived hadn't refused to seek the help of a psychologist. The anger that Ron had still to digest five years after the war, convinced him even more of the need the wizarding world had for the correspondent professional figure.

 _Mind-Healers_ dealt with the effects of love filters and took care of those patients who'd been on the receiving end of the Imperious curse or memory charms, but they were entirely useless when they entered the field of what muggles called mental health.

Over the past couple of years Harry Potter had grown increasingly interested in the subject, and he'd read many books and essays with the intent of exploring it.

There were still many things he couldn't quite figure out or understand completely, being psychology a mere hobby of his he'd had to dedicate to it lesser time than he would have liked, but of one thing he was absolutely sure: the creation of a professional figure designed to help wizards and witches getting things out of their chests and, hopefully, finding the proper tools to eventually deal with them on their own, could only be beneficial for the magical community as a whole.

And especially for their generation, who'd been thrown into a war at a very young age and then, at the end of the conflict, had been simply left to pick up the pieces on their own: Harry suspected the people he knew who didn't have some form of _PTSD_ to be extremely outnumbered.

As for the _trauma_ , he'd witnessed it way too many times, while the _disorder_ was easy to spot in the recent happening of politics, in the fear many wizarding citizens still seemed to be chocking on as they carried on with their everyday life, in the dormant fury he could see reflected in Ron's light-blue eyes even right now, as they quietly sipped on their Butterbeers.

"Sometimes I envy you, mate", the ginger muttered, pulling the Chosen One out of his fantasies. "How you managed to get past all the hatred, the anger, the sense of _injustice_ this fucking war left us all to deal with", he added, answering the unvoiced question written all over his face.

Ronald Weasley was, not very subtly, glaring at a point behind Harry's back.

Careful to be discreet, a habit he'd picked up only after months of severe Auror training, he turned his head and glanced at the room, finding what the ginger must had been looking at relatively quickly.

Harry sighed. "I know where you're coming from, Ron", he said, and it was true. Shortly after his final duel with Voldemort he'd struggled deeply as he was trying to come to terms with the fact it was finally over. Once wands had started cooling down from the curses and hexes the two sides had been throwing at each other, he'd soon started asking himself what had been exactly the point of so many people _dying_. "It's part of what a war really is, I think. Somehow, _everybody loses_. The moment you resort to hatred and violence… You've lost. Nothing can get you back from that".

"They've been mean to us for _years_ ", the other countered, seeming unimpressed, as he kept on eying suspiciously the table where Pansy and her friends were sitting and seemed to be having a lot of fun. "How am I supposed to just forget that? It was _them_ we fought the war against".

The bitterness in Ronald's voice immediately sent him into alert. "I'd stop there if I were you, Ron", Harry chided, warningly. "It's my _fiancée_ you're glowering at".

The wizard drew a sharp breath, finally averting his eyes from the distant group and boring them into Harry's green ones.

 _Lily's_ , or so he'd heard.

"You _proposed_ to her?", Ron asked, not bothering to hide his disbelief. "How did _that_ happen, again? She tried to deliver you to _Him_!"

"She was a scared girl who'd just realized what the world she lived in was really like", Harry said, patiently. "I won't go into details because these are things Pansy told me confidentially, but…", he trailed off, grimacing at the memory of the night somewhere around their seventh or eighth date when Pansy had had more wine than usual over dinner and shared with him her personal experience of the war, which had been anything but pretty or uneventful.

"I can assure you she went very close to losing her _freedom_ in the war. I never said she's justified for the awful things she's said or done while we were students, but neither are we", Harry continued. "She wasn't raised in a home full of love and support like you did, Ron, and you can trust _me_ on this, that kind of environment when you're growing up as a kid is not one where you _thrive_. The Dursleys were awful to me, but when I got my letter I finally had a place where people treated me as their _equal_ and cared about me, I found adults who inspired me and taught me how to better understand what is right and what is wrong. Pansy never had the luxury".

It was only at the end of his passionate speech that he noticed the sneer on the other's lips. "Yeah, so now you're saying that living in a fucking _Manor_ with servants and vaults full of gold makes you sad and damaged and worthy of my pity just because mom and daddy didn't have time to play with you", he scoffed.

The only reason Harry managed to remain calm was that he knew his friend came from a place of ignorance.

Repressing the increasing urge to punch some gumption directly into the ginger's face, he took a long sip of his Butterbeer and shook his head at Ron, disapprovingly. "You're my best friend but _Merlin curse me right this instant_ if you're not the most _obtuse_ person I know. I'm not saying it's being _rich_ that made her into what she was, I'm saying it had to do with the fact she was raised by two awful people who gave her an even worse education. What I'm saying is that you should stop being _so fucking dense_ and give a chance to the person she is now, because I love her and I'm going to marry her. Nothing you can say will ever change that".

The Boy Who Lived watched carefully as various emotions flashed on Ronald's face: he seemed to be struggling deeply to hide the discomfort his words were causing him, and determined not to meet his gaze as the tip of his ears turned red.

"We'll need something a little stronger than Butterbeer", Ron sighed after a while, addressing the bartender who had just started disposing of their empty glasses. "FireWhisky, perhaps?"

The pair waited in silence as the man, a wizard slightly older than them with dark, curly hair and onyx eyes, fixed their drinks: the red-haired was still processing the new information he'd been given, as well as the subtle warning laced in Harry's last words.

 _Don't make me chose, because you would loose me._

It took Ron another couple of minutes to decide what to say to him, but helped by the courage supplied by the now empty shot-glass of Odgen's finest, he eventually cleared his throat. "It's not like it was with Ginny, is it?"

Of all the things he'd pictured him saying, this question wasn't an option he'd contemplated: he could very well imagine the ginger throwing a fit about his over-forgiving tendencies, or berate him once more for his present lack of animosity towards Slytherins, but his relationship with his sister was something Ronald had never shown any interest in, and especially when the two had broken up.

Harry could only hope being honest was going to repay him in the long run. "You're right. It's an entirely different matter", he confessed, and then he promptly hastened to set the record straight. "When Ginny and I started dating back in our sixth year, I thought there was never going to be another woman in my life after her. She gave me stability, affection, unwavering devotion and I'll always be grateful to her for that. Your family, too, for that matter. After the war ended there was nothing I wanted more than to spend the rest of my days with your sister next to me…"

"What changed, then?", Ron queried. He'd never been a big supporter of his best friend being romantically involved with his younger and only female sibling, and his sudden interest felt odd.

"Nothing changed _per se_. She's still one of the most important people in my life. We're not as close to each other as we used to be for obvious reasons, but we're working on it, and since we both moved on and found someone who truly makes us happy things have been a lot better", Harry started, carefully constructing his speech so that it could lead Ron right where he wanted him. The red-headed had many flaws, but he was fiercely protective of his family, and if there was a way he could make him understand why things were better off as they were right now, was by showing him how much they benefited Ginny. "I know you don't particularly like Zabini, but I think you've seen how happy she is with him. I wasn't capable of giving her that after the war. When Dumbledore died and I broke up with her for the sake of her safety, I think that's where we really drew the line. She never forgave me, and I know her well enough to know she never would have. On the other hand, to have a relationship that really fulfills me, I needed someone who didn't know or care about my status as The Boy Lived. It's common knowledge her crush for me was heavily influenced by her empathy and sadness over what happened to my parents because of Voldemort".

"Zabini is not bad, actually, once you get to know him", Ron conceded. "Did you know he never misses a single game she plays? The Harpies are extremely important to Ginny, it's good she has someone that's supportive of that".

Harry warily eyed his friend. "Precisely my point", he nodded. "And I've found what I need to be happy, too. Isn't that good?"

"I suppose", Ron mumbled through gritted teeth. His eyes were once again focused on the table where the subjects of their conversation were sitting at, but his posture was a little less stiff now. "I just can't wrap my head around the fact that all the people I care about are getting involved with Slytherins. What next? _Hermione and Malfoy?_ ", he chuckled.

He laughed along with the ginger, but the sound came out of his throat a lot more nervous than he would have liked it to be. "Slytherin, Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff… Hogwarts is over, Ron, and when it wasn't, perhaps a little more inter-house unity could have changed the past fifty years of wizarding history".

" _And I would still have my brother_ ".

It was then that Harry realized how harsh he'd been in judging his friend: he'd thought all his unease resided in childhood rivalries and Gryffindor pride, when in reality the only thing that prevented him from looking rationally at the matter at hand were his feelings over Fred's death.

He could sympathize with that. "Yes, you would", he said, quietly. "But I hope you realize that nobody on that table personally raised their wand on Fred, and that some of them did the right thing even when they still got everything to lose. Nott and Zabini went into hiding instead of attending their seventh year because they didn't want the mark and fought alongside the Order in the Battle of Hogwarts, while Malfoy only took it when Narcissa's life was threatened, and as you well know he recognized us the moment the Snitchers brought us to the Manor, but he still chose not to turn us in. He even had a child with a Muggle!"

Ron bowed his head on defeat over the last point. He didn't like Draco, but even he had to recognize how the man lovingly doted on his daughter.

"His baby truly is adorable", he admitted. "She's a mini-Malfoy, sure, but without the trademark sneer it's almost hard to tell".

The half-joke gave Harry some hope. "He's changed a lot from the boy we went to school with", he replied. "I gave him a chance when he was assigned to me during Auror training, and I was pleasantly surprised by the man he's become. I don't think I need to remind you that _I_ used the _Sectusempra_ on him when we were sixteen".

"That was pretty dark for your character", Ron confessed with a sigh.

He'd never voiced his opinion about the event (as back in the day had done, quite loudly, Hermione), but the dark-haired wizard wasn't surprised by the judgement laced in his voice. The youngest Weasley son hated violence, even when it was directed at someone he considered an enemy.

"And probably one of the things I regret the most about my past", Harry supplied in a grave tone. Thinking back to the way his wand had _criss-crossed_ cuts all over the blond Slytherin's chest still made him feel nauseous. He'd acted out of paranoia and frustration, but that didn't mean he hadn't realized the full extent of the curse he'd thrown the moment blood had started spilling out of Draco Malfoy's body. "Which is why I'm telling you that antagonizing them now is worthless, not to mention totally uncalled for", he reasoned. "They moved on. I suggest everybody else do the same".

Ron held his gaze, searching his face for even the slightest sign of doubt. When he couldn't find one, he threw his head back and erupted in a fit of jittery laughter before ordering two more shots of FireWhisky.

The ginger normally didn't indulge much in drinking alcohol, his vice was gluttony, and when he did it was usually out of three circumstances: either he had something to celebrate ( _the end of the war_ , _his wedding_ ), someone to mourn ( _his brother_ , _their fellow schoolmates_ , _members of the Order)_ or there was something he struggled to accept that he needed to come to terms with ( _Hermione leaving England_ and, as of right now, _the future presence of an increasingly large number of Slytherins in his life_ ).

Harry drank his small glass of Odgen's in a single sip, savouring the burning sensation that simultaneously took control of both his mouth, throat and stomach as he silently observed his best friend do the same.

"So, what next?", Ron asked after he finished his drink, a sheepish smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

The-Boy-Who-Lived was curious as to what exactly had prompted the sudden change of heart, if it had been his words or rather the alcohol to loosen him up a little, perhaps an oddly balanced juncture of the two, but he didn't want to test his luck and waste the unexpected opportunity.

"You keep an open mind and you come with me to properly get to know my girlfriend and her friends before you decide you want nothing to do with them", he proposed, slowly raising from his seat at the bar counter. "I can't have my _best man_ estranged from the bride, can I?"

Ron's smile quickly turned into a wicked grin. "I'm the best man?"

"Who else?", Harry rolled his eyes. "You're my best friend, Ron".

"So is Hermione", the other retorted. "I thought you were going to make her _best woman_ or something…"

"I won't lie to you, I've considered that", he confessed. "But you were the first friend I ever had, Ron, and it seemed more fitting this way. Besides, Pansy completely overruled me and asked Hermione to be her maid of honour before I could even bring up the subject".

Ron gaped. "But that means I have to _slow-dance_ with her!", he stated, worriedly. "Lavender is _not_ gonna like it".

The red-headed had never bothered hiding his unrequited love for Hermione back in the day, and as a result, his wife was fully aware of the torch he'd once carried in his heart for the woman.

The pair dancing together at his wedding was bound to be downright _awkward_ , especially since he'd personally informed the witch of the crush her ginger friend had on her, but he didn't share that with Ron.

As per usual, Harry was going to sit back and laugh his ass off as events unfolded on their own. The Weasley-Granger duo had always offered many comedy cues.

"It would probably be a good idea to ask Lavender if she wants to join us", Harry proposed, fidgeting awkwardly as he stood next to the bar counter. The red-headed wasn't giving any signs of getting up from his seat just yet.

His suggestion seemed to do the trick, because the wizard jumped to his feet and hastily perused the room with his eyes, looking for his lover.

"I think it's also time I visit her favourite jewellery", Ron lamented, visibly getting paler, when he finally spotted his wife, who was quietly sipping on her glass, not far from the dancefloor.

The woman was obviously fuming, with her arms crossed on her chest as she glared at the pair of them.

Harry sighed. If he demanded Ron to be more welcoming towards Pansy, he definitely had to step up his game when it came to the man's wife.

He didn't particularly liked Lavender, he never had, _truly_ , but The-Chosen-One hated hypocrisy more than anything else in the world, and so he decided, even though the woman was patently glowering at him as they approached her, clearly returning the feeling, that he was going to grant the witch the same possibility he hoped Ronald was really going to give to his fiancée: an opportunity to get to know each other and overcome their differences.

* * *

 ** _( Woodmour Cottage, outskirts of Beddgelert, Wales;  
October 5th, 2003, around 23:00 p.m. )_**

* * *

The adults who'd been invited to Pansy Parkinson's after-party had pondered carefully her invitation, and when the fact it was going to be held in a _nightclub_ was brought up, most of them had felt rather uneasy at the idea of mingling with their drunk, sweaty and dancing younger counterparts, and ultimately decided not to join.

Surprisingly enough, some had accepted Andromeda's proposal to move the gathering to her house for the _grown-ups_ and they were currently sitting in her living room, light and warmth steaming off the fireplace in soft waves.

Her sister Narcissa and her husband where sitting next to each other on one of the two couches, while Molly and Arthur Weasley occupied the one in front of it and Euriphides Greengrass mirrored Andromeda as he sat composedly in the tufted cream-coloured armchair.

The witch had served drinks from her late husband's personal collection of Elf-Wine, which five years after the war was still almost untouched.

The oldest Black sister knew, however, that some of the guests she was entertaining were of refined taste and accustomed to luxury, what with living in _Manors_ , and at the same time she couldn't remember a single occasion were the red-headed couple had passed on the offer when a good bottle was opened.

Not far from the adults, Teddy and Adhara were playing with the little boy's toys, paying zero to little attention to the conversation unravelling around them and raising their heads only when the occasional fit of laughter happened to occur.

"Pansy was truly devastated", the blonde witch was sharing with the others upon being interrogated by Molly over the circumstances of that morning's accident. "But she managed to keep it together, and personally I think her show was a success in the end. She's a very talented designer".

Andromeda agreed with her younger sister: the dresses that had been walked down the runway worn by some very gorgeous witches weren't simply good to look at, they all seemed to be the type of garments the average magical woman would wear on a day to day basis.

For the eldest of Druella and Cygnus Black's daughters, it was clear Ms. Parkinson had tried to combine the latest trends of muggle haute-couture with wizarding fashion staples, and the result was something she was dying to buy for herself.

Now that she thought about it, perhaps their common enjoyment of _mode_ and shopping was something she could bond over with Narcissa once again, just like it had been before Andromeda had fallen in love with a Muggle-born wizard and got erased from the family tree.

The two sisters had been rather close growing up, often showing a combined front against their other sister, Bellatrix, with the blonde being the only one to say goodbye to her and declare her heartbreak over her fate, and Meda had missed her immensely in the almost thirty years the two hadn't had contact with each other.

When Voldemort had returned, and the war lashed out, the black-haired woman had prayed Merlin every night for Narcissa to come out of it alive, and when the conflict had finally ended, she'd admired her for her courage in lying to the Dark Lord about Harry's death, therefore saving the rest of the wizarding world from certain doom.

She'd never found the courage to reach out to her once Voldemort had been defeated, and in all honesty she thought it was up to her sister to offer the proverbial olive- branch, but when the blonde witch had done just that, and publicly, Andromeda had for a long time known that she was ready to welcome her back into her life.

To the Blacks, family was extremely important, and it was a trait she'd preserved for over three decades of estrangement from them. Reconnecting with the only sister she had left had felt even more crucial now that the only person she'd left, after the lost of her husband, daughter and son-in-law, was Teddy.

The children had been immensely helpful at that, becoming the closest of friends as soon as Draco and Harry had introduced them as cousins, and now the two sisters frequently met and sipped tea together during their grandchildren's play-dates.

"I wasn't very surprised. The Parkinson girl practically grew up at the _Mason_ , I always knew she had it in her. I had thought about offering her an apprenticeship when Howard and Cordelia cut her out of the family and she left the country", Euriphides shared, quietly.

To this very day the Pureblood circles possessed very little information about what had exactly happened between Pansy and her parents, but Andromeda Black had a little inside knowledge she thought was worth sharing.

"They tried to marry her off to a foreign wizard. He was from Russia, I believe", she supplied with a thin smile. "It goes beyond my understanding why people would still think that arranging your children's marriages is a fine thing to do".

Her last remark was accompanied by a pointed look in Lucius' direction, to which the man replied with a smirk. "If that's of any consolation, we never tried to tell Draco who he should spend his life with", he said.

"Just not to mingle with those of a lesser blood-status, I assume?", Andromeda countered, icily. "Anyway, from what I know she'd never stepped out of line once before they tried to make her sign the betrothal, though we all know that's merely a formality".

As Lucius was replying with a frosty "That's a mistake I'll never be done paying", Arthur piped in, eager to keep the peace.

"Pansy is a lovely girl", he said. "It's sad that her own family couldn't realize that".

Andromeda shared the feeling, and it hit her right where it hurt the most: it hadn't been long after her eighteenth birthday when she'd fled the house she'd been raised in.

She'd never seen her parents after that, she and Ted living quiet and private lives in the man's beloved birth-country, Wales, and she could only imagine how much more painful it must had been for Pansy now that she was back in England: while Druella and Cygnus had died shortly after Meda's falling out with her family, Howard and Cordelia Parkinson were very much alive, and active members of the wizarding community at that.

They were Pureblood supremacists who had never openly supported the Dark Lord, and two socialites who never missed an important gala or charity function.

Despite the fact all they really cared about were their assets and what other Purebloods thought of them, the public opinion didn't possess enough elements against the pair to properly condemn them, and they still received invitations to most events.

They hadn't been at the launch of the latest fashion brand of the magical side of London, though, and Andromeda knew the director of the Pureblood Tea Society had probably gone mad because of it.

"She is going to be all over the front covers of papers tomorrow", Narcissa observed, sending her a knowing glance that suggested she was thinking the same thing. "I'd die to see Cordelia's face when the morning Prophet is delivered to her".

"Surely they can't be unhappy their child is having success", Molly chimed in, utterly disgusted by the idea. "I must admit I was a little _prejudiced_ when Pansy first started dating Harry, but I'd be proud of her if she was mine".

The Weasley matriarch was making it look a little better than it had originally been, since she hadn't been exactly welcoming with the witch during their first meeting and Andromeda had witnessed it, but the subject at hand was another: motherhood in Pureblood circles.

"Pansy making it on her own goes against pretty much everything they've ever believed in", she pointed out.

She'd stop being bothered with fighting the old system a long time ago and she was more than happy with just watching it die out of its own ignorance. Over the course of the past thirty years or so, Andromeda Black had let go of the hatred and opted for lucid indifference.

"Personally, I can't wait to see her take over the world and prove them wrong".

Lucius chuckled. "Always the revolutionary. Though I have to confess that we're on the same team for this one". The man finished what was left of his drink before he turned his head to his right, glancing over at Euriphides as the shadow of a smirk appeared on his face. "What about your _lovely_ wife?"

" _Lucius_ ", Narcissa called in a warning tone. "We're not here to put Euriphides at discomfort with silly tea-room gossip", she chided.

"It's fine, _Cissa_ ", Mr. Greengrass replied, affectionately. "My divorce will be public knowledge very soon. I know it'll bring me some bad press, but I'm willing to do the exchange if it means I can finally be free from her yoke".

The man's younger sister, Anastasia, had been the Malfoy matriarch's best friend since the two had been children, and he'd been rather well acquainted with all three of the Black sisters up until they'd finished Hogwarts.

Apparently, Euriphides and Narcissa hadn't fallen out of touch since then: it made sense, considering that from age fifteen the blonde had been an illustrious member of the same Pureblood Tea Society which Idabelle Greengrass née Selwyn had been founder and co-director of until a month or so ago.

As stupid as it was, the Sunday edition of the Prophet had an entire column about it, and it was one of the most read.

"I still think we should concentrate on other matters", Narcissa replied, politely. "Like the fact a shop in a private neighbourhood was the target of an attack, and not long after my own house was ambushed and my niece Summer gets Imperious-ed while I have Aurors following me everywhere".

She was hinting at the middle-aged man standing outside the entrance door of Woodmour Cottage, the one who'd accompanied the Malfoys to the party and had come with them to Andromeda's house to keep them safe, and her sister couldn't help but feel sorry for her.

"We're getting old in crazy times. It's not reassuring", Arthur said. "I can't bear the thought I may leave my children all alone in this. They got to your daughter once, Mr. Greengrass, what tells me they won't get to Ginevra the next time?"

He seemed to be pleading for someone to promise him such a thing wasn't going to happen, but they all knew that it could: people were hungry for Slytherin blood, fomented by the Wizengamot and the press, and the youngest Weasley child was dating Blaise Zabini, whose mother had been married with a Death-Eater _just_ during the war.

It had been proved many times over the last five years how mere distant association with Voldemort or the Dark Arts meant social death for the wizard or witch publicly caught up in it.

"Hopefully the Aurors will catch whoever went after my Daphne before they have time to plan something else", Euriphides supplied, lips pierced in a thin line.

He wasn't the type of man who engaged in wishful thinking, but there weren't many things he could say that could bolster Mr. Weasley. His concerns were very well hooked on reality.

"Your family can sleep safe and soundly for now, Arthur. No one with a grudge with Death Eaters will haunt a _Weasley_ of all people. You fought for the right side and everybody and their House-Elf knows about it", Lucius chimed in. "I think it's pretty clear that it is my lot they want to _end_ ".

He'd just expressed a belief shared by everyone in the room who wasn't a toddler, but his words were still welcomed by general outrage: nobody had expected him to just say it out loud, not even his wife.

Andromeda was the first to recover from the surprise. "Nothing is happening to you, Lucius, or to any of your loved ones", she said.

His unusual grey eyes gleamed with something akin to fondness as he glanced over at her. "You should be careful, too", he warned her. "Your sister is an obvious target. Not to mention that we escaped the first attempt on our lives only because we happened to be here when they set the Manor on fire".

Lucius paused, and the moment of silence was broken only by Molly's gasp. "We don't know how close these people are to us, but what's worse is that we don't know who they are. So far, we've been extremely lucky. I'm not sure for how long this trend will hold on", he added after a while, his tone colder than before.

The wizard had sorted through his thoughts and successfully recomposed his façade of one-piece man, but his sister in law could spot the fear and the anger behind his new-found halo of confidence.

"If there's something the war should have taught all of us…", Andromeda trailed off, giving her guests the time to adjust to the topic.

Pretty much every family in wizarding Britain had lost something during Voldemort's reign of terror, and more than five years after the Battle of May 2nd it wasn't any easier to approach the delicate subject than it had been with the corpses still warm and the Hogwarts castle in ruins around them.

Molly and Arthur were never going to see one of their sons ever again, while Narcissa and Lucius had almost lost Draco while being deprived of their personal freedom as the Dark Lord the wizard had foolishly chosen as his leader twenty years before took ownership of his ancestral home.

Andromeda wasn't sure how the war had affected Euriphides, as the man, unlike his wife, had never sided with Pureblood supremacy, neither publicly nor privately, but he'd been neutral, and for Tom Riddle neutrals had been just the same as enemies.

On the other hand, her personal tragedy was common knowledge: her husband had been murdered by Snatchers, running for his life like a hunted animal, and what was left of her family was little Teddy, the son of her _dead_ daughter and _dead_ son in law.

But someone had to say the words she was about to speak, and if nobody else got enough courage, then she was more than happy to make the sacrifice herself.

Certain truths were never better when left unsaid.

"…It's that it doesn't matter how long it takes. Justice finds a way to deliver itself through the most unexpected turns of events when men and women are too busy killing each other to pursue it", she said. Her eyes instinctively searched for Molly and Arthur's, and the trio exchanged a knowing glance. They all knew what it felt like to out-live your own child. "I have to believe that, and I think you should do the same. Otherwise, the pain I've endured until now will become useless".

The air crackled with anticipation as people digested her narrative, but before any kind of debate could flourish – she suspected there were quite a few things they didn't like about the way she'd put it – the silence was sharply broken by the standard ringtone installed in every Mirror 2.0 when the device got out of factory.

Andromeda knew it merely because she'd forgotten to personalize it, too; even though she'd always been acquainted with _telephones_ and later _cell-phones_ through Ted, her husband hadn't been there when Hermione Granger had introduced wizarding Britain (which ignored the existence of the previous two) to _smartphones_.

Having only magical people in her life, the witch hadn't exactly needed to have one for herself up until very recently, but when she'd been gifted with what apparently was the current _best-of-the-best_ , Meda had been more than happy to jump on the bandwagon and give it a try.

It was a functional instrument, and way more practical than owls.

She'd mastered pretty much every convention and unspoken rule of the digital world, some with better results than others, and she knew that a call at this time of the night generally meant bad news.

For once in her life, Andromeda wished she was wrong.

Only to be proven right when Narcissa answered the call and paled.

The look on her face made it look like her world had just fallen apart.

* * *

 **Author's notes**.

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...and here we reach the end of chapter 28th with a nice, little cliff-hanger. (:  
Get ready for the next one, because I have the feeling you're going to hate me before you start enjoying it.  
If you can't wait to see what comes next, there's a little extract on my tumblr that's been sitting there since I was actually writing said chapter (and also, I finally completed the characters page, so you can see what they all look like).

I hope you enjoyed the speedy update and to see you in the reviews section!  
Until next time, I hope you're having a wonderful day! (I certainly am not, LOL, but luckily it's almost over).


	29. GOIN' BAD

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **Author's notes** : I thought I'd try to change the position of my notes, hopefully it'll make me ramble a little less. So, what you're about to read is probably one of my favorite chapters so far, and I hope you'll enjoy it just as much as I enjoyed writing it. The first part is mostly Dramione with a siding of Narcissa, while further on we'll get to experience a little more Scarlett Order (which I have an insane amount of fun writing about). Happy reading! & sorry for another cliff-hanger. :)

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 **29.**

 **GOIN' BAD**

 **.**

* * *

 ** _(St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical  
Maladies and Injuries, London, England;  
October 6th, 2003, around 04:30 a.m.)_**

* * *

The range of things he could feel had been reduced to mere coldness.

A longing he couldn't quite understand was stirring in his mind, but the wizard had no perception of his body as of now.

It was like his conscience had been put to prison, and for a moment there he convinced himself he must had been kissed by a Dementor.

As his naked body laid on a surgery table and a team of top qualified Healers busied themselves all over it, tending to the wounds and cuts covering the surface of his skin in a gruesome caricature of a constellation-map, Draco Malfoy had no idea of what was going on around him.

All he could see was an endless valley of black smoke, and all he could hear was the horrifying silence of nothingness.

Suspended in the stasis of magical induced coma, of which he had no knowledge, the blond happily ruled out Dementors as the cause of his present state: a human who received the Kiss was supposed to be an empty shell of his former self, a man deprived of his soul.

But that _ability of abstraction_ was all he could feel in the present, and it was his mortal flesh he seemed unable to reconnect with.

Sadly, there was only one logical answer to the question he had yet to dare asking himself.

He could only be dead.

And if he wasn't, then _where was he_?

He'd never read or heard of this place, of this inability to feel.

But if he was, indeed, _not alive_ no more, why did he still possess the ability to _think_ and the one to _regret_?

He was platonically re-living all his life simultaneously and at once, milestones and ordinary moments tangled up together, but all his attention was focused on just a single thought: there were way too many things he'd have done differently if only given the chance of a rewind.

The wizarding world had never given much attention to the after-life: over the centuries new faiths and beliefs had come around, but they'd usually died in short periods of time, crushed by the oldest cult of them all, that of magic _itself_.

Wizards and witches had been cheating death since the beginning of time, and it would have been weird to dwell on such things when ghosts with unfinished business, the Philosopher's Stone and etiquette lessons with the paintings of your ancestors were a well-known reality.

Though those who practiced the Dark Arts showed to their craft a grade of devotion that was easily comparable to the muggle concept of _religious fanatism_ , magical people as a whole thought of time as a circle rather than a straight line.

They weren't concerned with the _purpose of their existence_ , what really mattered was what you did with it, and how you expressed the magic you were gifted by nature during your time walking the earth.

Magic itself was their deity.

If Draco had been a muggle, perhaps he'd have thought of his current situation as the tragic moment his eternal fate was being decided, but since he was not, he merely found it a bit odd.

It definitely wasn't something that he was theoretically prepared for.

As he begun to surrender to the evidence, _that was it_ , he was dead, there was nothing he could do about it and therefore it was better if he just let go of whatever was compelling him to keep thinking about his situation like it was something he was entitled to change, Draco's best memories made another appearance.

When the silence was broken, he was too occupied in remembering the happiness he'd once experienced to notice it straight away.

 _"Tergeo!"_

 _"Brackium Emendo!"_

 _"Ferula!"_

 _"Vulnera Sanentur!"_

The moment in which Draco realized the muttered words were Healing Spells unfortunately matched the one when he regained his ability to perceive physical pain.

That's when it all started coming back to him.

He'd been minding his own business just outside _The Pavillion_ when the first curse had hit him from behind his back, but other than that, the wizard had no way of reconstructing what exactly had happened as of yet.

" _Hurry up, Karin! Two more vials of Sleeping Draught!_ _We can't let him wake up now!_ "

It felt like his entire body was burning from within, and Draco found himself chocking over his very first attempt to breathe some fresh air.

The black smoke was dissipating, and the valley was taking the shape of an off-white hospital room.

" _Anapneo_!", shouted the same male voice as before.

His eyes shut open and he stared, breathlessly, at the middle-aged wizard currently tending to the wound on one side of his neck before he was forced to squeezed them in agony.

" _Anapneo_!", the Healer repeated, and this time he finally succeeded in bringing some much needed oxygen to Draco's lungs.

Before the blond could try to do or say anything, though, what looked like a nurse ( _Karin, perhaps?_ ) swiftly approached the surgery table while holding two small glass bottles filled half the way up with a dark purple liquid.

He felt terribly weak, so its contents were shoved down his throat without much resistance on his part.

Slowly, but surely, Draco's mind finally blacked out as the _Sleeping Draught_ entered his system.

There was only one thing he was sure of, but it was of the utmost importance: he still got his chance to live.

Eyelashes fluttering before his eyes as they finally closed, Draco Malfoy surrendered to unconsciousness as one last thought crossed his mind.

He was going to do anything in his power not to waste this opportunity.

* * *

 ** _(St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical  
Maladies and Injuries, London, England;  
October 8th, 2003, around 06:45 a.m.)_**

* * *

The bright neon lights of the hospital building had camouflaged the sun as it had risen in the sky to greet a new day.

It was only when she heard the chirping sound of a sparrow and she looked up to find a specimen of the small bird perched on top of the window sill as he savoured his prey, a worm, that Hermione noticed the moon had once again left the stage to her less merciful companion.

This had been the third night in a row which she had spent by carefully watching over Draco's unconscious body.

The wizard had been ambushed in the late hours of Pansy's after-party.

At first they'd attacked him from behind to be sure he couldn't defend himself: according to the Healer who'd performed the six-hours-long surgery that had ultimately saved the wizard's life, three unclassified curses and at least a dozen _Cruciatus_ had been thrown at him in the outbreak.

Then his aggressors had apparently decided to move on to more direct manners of inflicting him pain, and once he'd been paralyzed they'd beaten him up with the help of their feet and bare hands.

His jaw had been broken as well as three of ribs, of which one had gone extremely close to perforate his right lung.

As if that wasn't enough, he'd almost lost an eye.

From the way Healer Thompson had put it, it seemed it was something short of a miracle that Draco was still alive and breathing.

Apparently, he'd been lucky with the timing when he was apparated to St. Mungo's. Since it was her who had found him when the aggression was still taking place, Hermione was glad she'd managed to handle the situation as well as she had.

Worried about Draco's conditions she hadn't bothered engaging them in a duel one by one, opting for sending out a powerful wave of magic that shook the ground. Though of contained intensity, it was enough to scare the attackers, who had dis-apparated straight away.

At that point Hermione had rushed to where her lover was lying on the floor, finding him in the odd company of Lavender Brown.

Not far from them yet another wizard was not standing on his feet. When the ground had shaken he'd fallen and twisted his ankle, and now he was desperately trying to crawl away from the crime scene.

His hands were covered in Draco's blood, and Hermione had wandlessly and wordlessly sent an _Incarcerous_ his way.

Without a second look she'd then focused all of her attention on the blond wizard, hurriedly checking his wounds before deciding to put him under the magical stasis which, in Thompson's words, _had been the only thing preventing his body from succumbing to the injuries and blood-loss_.

Now that he was no longer in life threatening danger, however, the witch was growing increasingly frustrated with the fact she'd allowed his attackers to escape: there had been at least half a dozen of them, men and women inflicting pain on a defenceless, paralyzed body.

The cowardice behind their aggression was probably what enraged her the most: though the possibility seemed preposterous, as the man had led a very quiet and retired life since his return to the wizarding world, if someone had a problem with Draco Malfoy they should have challenged him on a duel as it was customary in wizarding society.

Nonetheless, having a problem with Draco Malfoy meant having a problem with her, nowadays, and unlike the wizard, Hermione was anything but _quiet_.

All she needed was for the man in the hospital bed to finally wake up and give her undeniable proof he'd survived the vicious attack. Then she could set her mind on plotting _retaliation_.

She wasn't sure how she exactly was going to find the people involved, but she knew it was bound to be _grand_ and… _painful_. For them at least.

Hermione Granger couldn't stomach the thought of such sick and twisted wand-carriers freely rooming around the world: both Daphne's attack and the attempt at wiping away Malfoy Manor had gone unpunished for lack of evidence, but this time she was determined to bring those responsible to justice.

 _Even if it meant delivering it herself_.

"You really should be getting some rest, dear", called Narcissa's voice from her right, disentangling her from her own thoughts.

Only now the witch realized she was still staring at the window sill; the little sparrow was now gone and she wondered for how long.

She wasn't sure when the blonde had entered the hospital room, or if she'd produced any noise in doing so.

Hermione had been so focused on her speculations she hadn't notice the Malfoy's presence.

She didn't miss the vulnerability of it all: Draco was still under his magical induced coma, but unlike three days before, he wasn't defenceless anymore, not with her by his side.

The brunette had argued with half of St. Mungo's staff over her decision of never letting the wizard out of her sight, completely overlooking the hospital policies regarding visiting schedules and taking permanent residence in his room.

She'd left it only to use the bathroom, and only if other people were watching over him.

As soon as the blond had gotten out of surgery, covered in bruises and white bandages, she'd felt the urge of _never letting go_ , and so she'd done.

Over the years she'd learned to trust her gut. She wasn't going to risk her lover's safety just because she was missing the luxury of her bedroom and sleeping on a hard and uncomfortable chair.

Not that she'd been getting much sleep, anyway.

She'd practically locked herself in his room, and despite the many attempts Healers and nurses had made to convince her to leave, even by threatening to relocate her by force, Hermione hadn't budged once in the past two days: she'd disarmed the hospital security and closed the door back on their faces.

If Draco's friends and family thought of her behaviour as weird, they were yet to voice their opinion: Narcissa and Lucius had actually _thanked_ her for the added protection she was giving their son with her mere presence, knowing she was the best option, while Theo had merely approved of her idea and provided her with some much needed company whenever he visited his best friend, which he did very often; Pansy had smirked and nodded approvingly when she'd been informed of her decision, not oblivious to the romantic statement it represented, and Blaise had merely shrugged the information away, as if it didn't really matter who was protecting his best friend as long as he was, _well_ , protected and taken care of.

Which she was doing, sacrificing her sleep and working hours all the same; she'd put _MagiTech_ 's launch on hold and Dylan was keeping his role of deputy in her absence. For the first time since she'd founded her company, what she considered to be _the shiniest jewel in the crown of her life_ , Hermione didn't give a single fuck about it.

Her mind seemed to only be able to focus on Draco's well-being and getting payback for what had been done to him, but, once again, she didn't care.

She'd thought she'd learnt this lesson with the war, but apparently the past five years had erased that precious fragment of knowledge: _how could she only realize just how much she cared for someone when she was about to lose them_?

She couldn't have just realized how deep the roots of her feelings for this man went beneath the ground, and truth was, she hadn't. Hermione just hadn't been ready to admit it.

Her history with Draco was _tricky_ at best, but at least in her own mind she could entertain the crazy idea: her fascination with the wizard had nothing to do with the recent reunion, or the fact he'd become an accustomed guest in her bed.

It had started many years before, when she'd been a child and she couldn't wrap her mind about the fact someone could hate her based solely on the fact of where she came from.

It had all begun out of _spite_ , really.

The day he'd called her _Mudblood_ for the first time was burned in her memory.

Hermione could very easily say it had been a rather major turning point in her whole life experience.

She'd never felt so angered, embarrassed and offended before in her life.

It hadn't been long after that when the Basilisk had petrified her just as she was about to solve the Chamber of Secrets enigma.

Her only thought as she'd stared at the terrifying yellow eyes of the giant snake had been that Draco Malfoy had won.

And then it had happened.

* * *

 **[ _Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,  
the Infirmary – ten years ago _]**

* * *

 _Hermione had been laying completely still  
on one of the beds of the Infirmary for  
almost twenty-four hours._

 _The twelve-year-old witch couldn't move  
a single muscle in her body and she'd given up  
any attempt at moving for some time now._

 _She was acutely aware of her surroundings,  
and she could _hear _when people talked in the room,  
but after the big fuss when she'd been firstly brought there,  
with Dumbledore and Minister Fudge practically at each other's  
throats as Professor McGonagall tried to mediate, her only  
company had been Madam Pomfrey and the other  
living beings who were facing the same predicament she was._

 _She'd been quietly napping when around midnight  
footsteps echoed in the Hogwarts Infirmary._

 _They were different from the nurse's, and  
Hermione's curiosity was immediately captured._

 _When whoever that person was got closer,  
however, for a moment she pondered if it wasn't  
someone sneaking in to finish the job._

 _Visitors weren't allowed at that hour of the night,  
she'd heard Madam Pomfrey repeating it endless times during the day._

 _The curtain protecting her from the outside world  
produced an almost imperceptible noise when it was moved,  
but her ears managed to perceive it nonetheless._

 _"Hey, Granger", a voice whispered._

 _It took her longer than usual to recognize it,  
considering she was used to hearing it slurring insults,  
but she had no doubt. _Draco Malfoy _was paying her a visit._

 _If she wasn't already petrified, Hermione would have  
probably felt her blood freeze in her veins._

 _"I- I don't know why I'm here…", he trailed off, uncertainly,  
before he took a couple more steps and grabbed her hand._

 _Hearing and tact were the only senses which  
still seemed to be working, but what she was missing  
the most in that moment was sight._

 _She would have paid whatever price to see  
the kind of look that was on his face right now._

 _Why did he grab her hand?_

 _Wasn't he there to_ gloat _?_

 _"Well, I do know, but it's still hard to say it", Malfoy confessed._

 _She'd never noticed his voice was so easy on the ears  
when he wasn't screaming or insulting people._

 _Then he'd dropped the bomb on her._

 _"I just want you to know that I never_ really _  
hoped this would happen to you. We may not  
be friends, but I never wished for you to end up here.  
I was putting on a show for my friends when I said that,  
and I shouldn't have. It was terribly stupid of me"._

 _The moment he took to catch his breath and think  
of what to say next, Hermione used it to analyse his words._

 _She really was surprised._

 _"I'm not even sure you can hear that, and there's  
a part of me that hopes you don't, but I wanted to apologize.  
I'm sorry, Hermione. I never wanted you to be hurt"._

 _Then he'd left her hand and she'd felt exceptionally cold,  
but Draco apparently wasn't done yet._

 _"This changes nothing", he said, cryptically._

 _For a mere fraction of second she felt  
something lightly caress her on one cheek,  
but it lasted only a moment and soon enough  
she was alone once again._

 _"Don't give up, Granger"._

 _Hermione spent the rest of the night  
and the great part of her time in the Infirmary  
wondering if Draco Malfoy had really kissed her  
or if it had been her mind playing tricks on her._

* * *

She'd never discussed the episode with Draco himself, _obviously_.

After she'd been given the _Mandrake Restorative Draught_ towards the end of their second year Hermione had toyed with the idea of cornering the Slytherin and demand explanations, but in the end, she'd opted for the safer option of never mentioning it.

It had proven to be right choice: not long after she'd been released from the Infirmary the Slytherin had returned to his old habit of teasing her and riling her up with renewed malice.

She'd gotten to the point where she'd doubted the whole thing had even happened, and even now she instantly became apprehensive if she thought about bringing it up with Draco.

Narcissa gracefully cleared her throat.

Only now Hermione noticed that she was yet to acknowledge the older witch's presence.

"Hello, Narcissa", she said. "I'm sorry, I'm finding it hard to focus and I got a little bit distracted".

"That's fine, dear", the blonde waved her concerns away. "But I feel compelled to invite you to go home and rest once more, I'm afraid".

The pitiful look the Malfoy matriarch was sending her way made Hermione very self-conscious about her appearance, but she tilted her chin up in defiance anyway. "I'll be gone when he wakes", she declared, and her statement came out dangerously akin to an order.

She knew her hair looked even worse than before she'd discovered _Sleekheazy's_ **[5]** and that she'd been wearing the same dress since Pansy's after-party. She'd merely bothered removing the bloodstains from the black fabric, and she'd washed herself the best she could in the sink of the bathroom of Draco's private hospital room.

Hermione was painfully aware she looked like a mess, but she was too concerned with the wizard's health and, hopefully, with his imminent awakening to get herself a _vanity-check_.

"I see", Narcissa conceded, but it was clear she didn't agree.

The blonde was wearing expensive blue witch robes and her make-up was perfectly executed on the surface of her gracious face, but Hermione could see that despite she'd been sticking to visiting hours, Draco's mother still wasn't getting much sleep.

Between standing at her son's bedside, taking care of her granddaughter and calming Lucius' _hysteria_ over the lack of progress produced by the Aurors in interrogating the attacker she'd managed to capture, it looked like Narcissa had a handful of things to deal with at the same time.

Over the past two days, the brunette had tried to help her as much she virtually could from inside the room, especially with Adhara: she was brought to St. Mungo's to visit her father thrice every day, and over the entire span of her time in the hospital, it was usually Hermione who looked after her as the Malfoys took care of the things they were forced to post-pone while baby-sitting nonstop.

She was lucky, because Draco's daughter seemed to _adore_ her: the toddler could be very difficult with strangers, and sleep-deprived, fearful and impressionable as she was right now, the witch wasn't sure she would have been her usual patient self if the child was going to start throwing fits.

"I think it won't be long till he wakes up", she said out of the blue, needing some optimism just as much as Narcissa did. "Healer Thompson said his eye his completely fine now. The other bones should be ok by the end of the day".

"He also said we won't know the full extent of his head injuries until he's awake", Mrs. Malfoy countered. "It could be weeks, Hermione. Are you sure you don't want to take a couple hours for yourself? _I'm worried about you_ ".

Years before she would have snorted in a very _unladylike_ fashion upon hearing such an allegation from Draco's mother, but in the past months the witch had proved over and over again how she thought of the Nott twins as if they basically were her own: Theo had told his sister just how fundamental Narcissa had been to him once their mother had passed, how she'd taken care of and supported him, and ever since the two siblings had been reunited, the blonde witch had done the same for her.

She'd never had a _godmother_ before.

Jane and William were people of science and unmovable atheists, and therefore they'd never felt the need to choose a set of godparents to look after their baby girl if anything was to happen to them.

But in the magical world that role had no religious implications, and it was simply a way to ensure your kids would be taught magic and protected even when you no longer had the means to do so yourself.

Despite her ill opinion of Anastasia and Cantankerus Nott, she honestly thought they'd made the best possible decision when trusting the responsibility upon the witch.

Narcissa Malfoy had done a brilliant job in making sure Theo didn't succumb to the demons hiding in his past, and in the past few months she'd become rather fond of the woman, too.

She was the first adult she went to if she needed advice.

But she couldn't very well ask for her council where _her own son_ was concerned, could she?

As much as she wished she could talk to Narcissa about the feelings boiling in the depths of her chest, Hermione knew that it wasn't a possibility.

What really was bothering her wasn't the lack of sleep, or the fact her hair was all over the place: she was concerned because her whole world had stopped turning on its axe the moment she'd seen a severely wounded Draco covered in blood and she'd really feared for his life.

When the attack at Malfoy Manor had taken place, nobody had been on the property's grounds, and therefore she'd felt _offended_ rather than upset when she'd apparated to the front gardens and she'd seen the _FiendFyre_ running wild around the perimeter of the building.

The family had faced no real threats, considering Draco's parents and daughter had been at Andromeda's while the wizard was having dinner with her in Muggle London, but this time the unknown attackers had managed to land their hands on him, and her entire perception of reality had shifted.

Hermione couldn't bear the thought of him dying: she was going to protect him with everything she had before their enemies could strike again and finish the job. _Whether he liked it or not_.

"I'm more worried about _him_ , Narcissa", she let out with a sigh, gesturing at Draco's unmoving body. Raising from her seat, the brunette covered the little distance between the chair she'd been occupying and the hospital bed. "We still have no clue of who it was, and _not knowing_ it's killing me".

"He did use to mention you were a bit of a _know-it-all_ in your school years", the other witch chuckled. "Though I'm a little surprised to find you so concerned with my son's fate. I recall he was very mean to you".

"Yeah, well, I wasn't particularly kind to him either", Hermione muttered. "I can assure you the hurting process went both ways. I don't know if he has ever mentioned it to you, but I _punched_ him in our third year".

She couldn't figure out where exactly Narcissa was trying to direct their conversation, but she was still wary: the woman was a Slytherin, which meant she probably ate _cunning_ for breakfast, and if that wasn't enough, she'd been the only person to ever _lie to Voldemort_ and live to tell the tale.

Her calculative mind was common knowledge, and the younger witch wasn't planning on ever underestimating it.

"Yet you've spent the past _three_ nights locked up in this room", Mrs. Malfoy noted, joining her by Draco's bed, but on the opposite side.

From up close the puffiness of her eyes was fairly noticeable even under the layers of make-up she'd expertly applied on her face. It was clear she had been crying endlessly in the last few days, but every time she visited her son at St. Mungo's she put up an impressive _façade_ of confidence and optimism: Hermione remembered the speech Healer Thompson had done regarding patients in coma being positively influenced by their loved ones talking to them, and she suspected Narcissa's attitude had something to do with it.

Not that she blamed her for trying everything she could to better Draco's condition: ever since hearing that bit of advice, Hermione had been talking extensively to him, too.

Though she usually waited to be alone with the unconscious wizard to engage him in one-sided conversation, other people were not given the same privilege, considering she left Draco's room only to go the bathroom _inside_ of it, at only one door of distance.

Unlike her husband, who generally sat by his child's side and silently stared at him for the entirety of his visits, Narcissa didn't seem to have a problem with other people's presence to declare how much she loved her only son.

"I'm sure I'll be able to tell this to your face, soon", the blonde witch started, moving her right hand from her side to bring it to Draco's head, where she slowly started caressing his hair. "But we think Adhara had a little burst of magic last night".

Hermione's eyes widened at the news, but she managed to restrain her curiosity and not interrupt the mother and son moment she was witnessing.

"We've let her sleep in your room those past couple of days. It's the only thing that seems to calm her", Narcissa continued. "This morning when Lucius and I went to wake her up she was hugging your favourite toy from when you were little, the Swedish Short-Snout that normally sits in the tallest shelf of your wardrobe, behind the copies of _PlayWizard_ **[6]** you always thought I didn't know about".

She produced a small, portable comb-brush from her hand-purse, and with devotion she started brushing it through her son's hair, trying to contain the damage done to it by two days and a half without water and soap.

"Neither me nor your father gave it to her. I've checked with the Elves and they said no-one of them has been in her room last night". The woman was talking quietly, but despite the terrible circumstances in which she was sharing the moment with her son, a hint of pride and excitement could be found in her voice. "I know it's nothing determinant _per se_ , but I do have a very good feeling about this, Draco", she vowed.

The next five minutes went by, and the silence was interrupted only by Narcissa's huffs whenever the brush got stuck in her son's hair. Whether it was the dry blood or the sweat who prevented it from returning to its previous splendour, the woman quickly gave up on her task, and returned the hair-brush to her purse.

Once again, her light-blue eyes bored into Hermione's, who'd previously returned to her seat. "I'm glad he's got _you_ in his corner".

The brunette grimaced. "If it wasn't for me he wouldn't be lying unconscious in that bed now", she said.

The thought had kept cyclically popping back into her mind during her permanence at St. Mungo's. **_It was all her fault_**.

If Draco had been attacked and forced into fighting for his life, it was Hermione he had to thank. If she'd stayed in Australia on that faithful evening of June, when she'd showed up at the Hogwarts Reunion and walked out of the castle with a twin brother, right now he'd be probably having breakfast with his daughter and the rest of his family.

 _What a mess of a life she had_.

"Don't go down that road", Narcissa reproached, glancing at her in a manner that suggested she knew exactly what she was thinking of. "You have to trust me on this, Hermione. People hated my family way long before you returned to England".

"No one tried to _end_ it before I did", she retorted.

The timing wasn't going unnoticed by the younger witch, and her guilt increased with every second Draco didn't grace the world with the sight of his beautiful grey eyes.

"Being the trigger doesn't make you the cause or the responsible party", Narcissa waved her off. "Perhaps your return prompted these people to act on their beliefs, but it doesn't mean that they weren't going to pick up on another excuse at some point. The courage and strength you proved as a child was never forgotten, but as much as some wizards and witches might have a problem with you, many others are rapturous to have you back. You were never one for listening to a twisted minority going about sprouting injustice, so please, _dear_ _child_ , do not start now".

Her plea was voiced with the same maternal tone that the blonde usually reserved to her son and, sometimes, even to Theo and Blaise, and it struck on a very specific cord in Hermione's heart, the one Jane Granger had gone out of her way to destroy over the past five years.

She gave her a small smile. "I'm not backing down or disappearing again, Narcissa", Hermione reassured her. "These people are clearly holding a grudge with me. It's _my_ familiar they burnt to death when they attacked the Manor, and it was on _my_ property that they lashed out on Draco. I've been disconnected from the rest of the world for three days, but I can just imagine the sea of bad press I'll have to swim my way out of. But that's not something I really can bring myself to care about now", she hastened to add. "My point is… My involvement in the equation changes everything. If it were simply someone going after your family, then the list of suspects would be somehow short. The attackers could be Death Eaters still on the loose, and as we all know there aren't many of those left. But they wouldn't be so concerned with my personal association with you".

Narcissa narrowed her eyes. "What do you mean?"

"The Death Eaters I fought against in the war thought of blood as the supreme force driving their actions", Hermione said, careful to phrase her sentence in a way that could reproduce the logical connections of her theory. "My parentage has been all over wizarding papers since Theo and I publicly announced it, so I don't think they'd be too bothered by me, not where the fact I helped Harry defeat their master isn't concerned".

"They wouldn't risk getting the attention of the Order by going after Harry Potter's best friend", Narcissa noted. "Especially when Kingsley Shacklebolt is the Minister of Magic and has done anything in his power to lock them all up in Azkaban since the war ended".

The brunette nodded. "But Harry Potter's best friend who fought in the war as a _Muggleborn_ witch getting cozy with families generally regarded to be Dark? Well, that's something that bothers a different kind of people".

"Are you suggesting the attackers are from the Light?"

"I'm suggesting we should pay more attention to those whose opinions were never really taken into consideration", Hermione replied, vaguely. "There wasn't a Dark Mark in the sky the other night, was it? Their uniforms were red, not black, and they weren't wearing a mask, but capes. Too many things don't add up".

Narcissa was about to reply when both witches froze into place as Draco started to stir up in his bed.

At first it was a movement of his left leg, followed by a quiet whimper of pain. Then he started breathing more deeply, and his face gave away the first signs of his awakening.

Narcissa let out a relieved sigh and beamed happily before announcing she was going to call for whatever Healer was currently working his shift, and she left before Hermione could say anything in reply.

The witch leaned forward and placed a single, chaste kiss on Draco's lips before she turned away and after grabbing her belongings from the chair she'd previously occupied, she fled out of the hospital room.

When Narcissa returned with Healer Beckett five minutes later, she was met by her son's smile after two days and three nights of sheer agony.

Hermione's absence, however, didn't go unnoticed.

* * *

 ** _(Ministry of Magic, DMLE Office,  
Whitehall, London, England;  
October 8th, 2003, around 09:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

Magnus Loughty was a bundle of nerves as his double-play got every second more likely to be discovered by his co-workers.

He belonged to the bottom ranks of the Auror office, and because of the instant dislike Ron Weasley had felt for him, he was usually relegated to those jobs that nobody else in the team wanted to do, like compiling paperwork or listing evidence for their cases.

Information usually reached him only after it was already known by the rest of the Department, and inside of his place of work the Half-blood wizard had very little to zero friends.

He could speak in terms of acquaintances, at best.

Really, it was the story of his life: nobody seemed to ever genuinely _like_ him, and while in his Hogwarts years he'd desperately tried to improve his social life, now that he was an adult he'd simply given up.

The aversion was mutual, anyway.

But now he had found people with thoughts and beliefs similar to his own, and he hated feeling so powerless and unhelpful.

The Scarlett Order had been a breath of fresh air after a lifetime of _claustrophobia_.

He'd been haunted by his blood status for his entire life: Gilramore was a small wizarding village on the south coast of the Isle of Arran, in Scotland, and it was protected by a very old set of flawless Muggle-Repelling Charms.

The community was composed by less than thirty households in total, the majority of them Purebloods, and it was very closed, isolated from the rest of wizarding Britain to the point that it had its own legal statute.

Though racist and prejudiced, the people of Gilramore weren't fans of violence and open conflict, and they had refused any allegiance with Voldemort during both wars.

Some villagers had been killed in retaliation, so the funerals had been public and spectacular, but other than that, nothing had changed for the community as a whole after the tyrant's demise.

They still looked at you as if you were dirt on their shoes if you belonged to what they deemed a _lower condition_.

He'd lived there two more years as he completed his studies at Hogwarts, barely managing to financially support the small cottage where he'd been raised by his mother.

She had been killed during a Death Eater raid as Voldemort's troupes had occupied the Island of Arran for its strategic position: Rosemary Cooper had survived through not one but two wars despite her apparently flawed status to then simply succumb one week before the Battle of Hogwarts.

She'd been the illegitimate product of an affair between two high-profile Purebloods in the outbreak of the first wizarding war, and she'd been left in Gilramore, which had a reputation for taking in magical orphans, hours after she'd left her mother's body, never to see her again.

Rosemary had died not knowing who had brought her to life, and though Magnus had dedicated to the mystery a generous portion of his free-time over the past five years, thus far his researches had given him no answers.

She'd led a happy life, all things considered, but when she'd strayed and fell in love with a muggle, getting pregnant before even finishing her schooling, the same village who'd once welcomed and cherished her had been very quick on turning against her.

Of his father, Magnus Loughty knew only the surname.

Without the comfort of the only person in his life to ever care for him, and bitter about the way Death Eaters got to keep their lives while she was buried six feet under the ground, the wizard had thrown himself into studying for his NEWTs during his last two years at Hogwarts, spending there only the summer holidays.

As soon as he'd graduated, Magnus had enrolled for Auror training, sold the cottage and rented a small apartment in Diagon Alley, not far from the Ministry.

He'd dedicated all of himself to his job, but he'd received disappointment after disappointment, and now, five years later, he'd grown to hate the silver badge pinned on his uniform.

If he'd once bothered with concepts like justice, his ethics had turned into a blank slate over time. Playing fair and following the rules had never gotten him anywhere, and he was tired of putting effort in things without any reward whatsoever.

 _The Scarlett Order_ had finally given him a _purpose_ : fighting for what really was pure and belonged to the Light.

Albus Dumbledore himself, founder of the Order of the Phoenix and archnemesis of Voldemort, had been exposed for dwelling into the dark arts in his youth, and considering what many of the so-called heroes were doing with their lives, Magnus had started to doubt they were the good guys in the first place.

But now there were people among the privileged who shared his cause, his wish for an _improved_ and _more equal_ world, namely Maxwell Edevane, Blake Gastrell and Christian Culpepper, and the wizard was more than willing to do whatever it was necessary to help them achieve their common goal.

Which is why he was so incredibly frustrated as he paced the length of the hallway where the doors to interrogation rooms were located.

Just like it had been planned a week before in the basement of _Asmodeus' Pub_ , when at the end of the third meeting of The Scarlett Order some members, including Magnus, had been invited to prolong their stay and participate to an even more secret meeting, he was using his position in the DMLE Office to gather intel and keep them updated on the investigations.

It was then that he'd heard of the attempt at Draco Malfoy's life for the first time. The attack had gone pretty much as it had been designed up until the point where the wizard had been laying motionless and covered in blood on the ground, but Hermione Granger's interruption had suddenly changed the cards on the table, and a prisoner had been made of one of the ten carefully selected aggressors, all willing and voluntary participants.

Just when he'd thought the Muggleborn witch turned out to be a Pureblood princess couldn't get any more annoying, she'd knocked the cloaked attackers out of their feet and sought retaliation for their actions.

Things weren't currently looking as brilliant as they had while he'd spied on the young Malfoy being beaten off hidden by the shadows.

For once he'd been glad of his position in Ronald Weasley's team; being currently tasked with the Malfoy family's protection in a joint effort with Potter's team, Magnus was at The Pavillion when his comrades striked.

He'd witnessed the entire thing and rejoiced in seeing a Death Eater finally paying the _proper_ price for his choices and actions. They were actually supposed to cut the Mark off of his arm with magic before he lost conscience, but he couldn't really blame them if they'd gotten a little carried away with the physical beatings.

Having one of Voldemort's dogs at his mercy, he'd have probably done just the same, if not worse. Also, his opinion would have differed on the finale: rather than merely killing him, Magnus found the idea of toying with him for an indefinite amount of time a lot more endearing.

With his death would have come the absence of pain, and that wasn't a mercy he thought Draco Malfoy had deserved.

The Slytherin was very rumoured when they both attended Hogwarts, and he'd been quite famous for the verbal slurs and occasional hexes he threw at those of a lesser blood status.

Unluckily the _great prat_ had been rescued by the Gryffindor witch and as of right now he was on the edge of recovery, but a man could dream.

And dreams, to be honest, were the only stress-relief he knew.

A member of the Order in the hands of the Aurors dramatically repositioned the pieces on the chessboard: Magnus didn't know whom of the ten aggressors didn't manage to escape, but whomever he or she was, there was a distinct possibility that the secret organization he'd just recently joined could be compromised.

The pattern Edevane, Gastrell and Culpepper had followed in choosing those ten amongst all the recruits had been pretty easy to spot for him: they were all ruthless, intelligent below the average and easily manipulated.

Magnus had felt special when the three had assigned him an even more prestigious role in their plans for the immediate future. _Moles_ were way too much underrated in his opinion, and acted as absolute game-changers nine times out of ten.

He couldn't risk compromising his position now that he was one step from finally having his merits recognized, if only by The Scarlett Order's leaders.

Whomever was being questioned on the other side of the door that lead to interrogation room number eight, Magnus Loughty was determined to do anything in his power to stop them from talking.

As he heard voices coming closer, the wizard stopped his wild pace and positioned himself next to the door as if he had been guarding it the whole time.

When it opened, Potter and Weasley popped out of the room, each holding one arm of the handcuffed prisoner.

The Auror was lucky his complexion was already white as snow, otherwise his superiors would have noticed something definitely wasn't right about him. Staring at the tall man still wearing the red cloak, blood froze in his veins as he realized just which attacker had been captured.

 _Sodding Grinder Smith_.

"Loughty", Ron approached him, shoving the prisoner his way. "Get him to the bathroom and right back in number eight. Harry and I will take a five minutes break before we resume the interrogation".

"Of course, _sir_ ", Magnus forced out of his teeth, getting a hold of the man's arms. Bowing his head in mock respect, though he was sure Captain Weasley was so full of himself he couldn't tell the difference, he sent the pair an impassive glance. "I'll see you in five, _sir_. _Captain Potter_ ".

Luck was smiling at him once more: in a very short span he'd managed not only to discover whom the captured wizard was, but he was also getting some time alone with him.

As soon as he was done with his shift he was going to request a meeting with someone in the leadership of the Order: in the past three days he'd been contacted twice for news on the case, but as the prisoner had stayed at St. Mungo's for the two days his ankle took to heal, each time Magnus had shown up empty-handed.

Thinking quickly on his feet, the wizard magically locked and sealed the bathroom's door before turning his attention to Grinder. "I can't say I'm happy to see you again, Smith", he greeted, coldly.

He was actually feeling a certain pleasure in knowing that the man who was about to go _down_ for the cause was one he personally found so insufferable.

"I can't say I'm surprised to see you in a uniform. I knew there was something off about you, mate", the other replied, sporting an arrogance he hadn't dared confronting Potter or Weasley with. "But I guess I'm lucky to have a fellow comrade here to help me out".

The laugh that followed was cruel. "Who said anything about helping you out?", Magnus asked.

At that point he started toying with the wand on his hands, smirking evilly when Grinder placed his eyes on it and started following its movements with terror plastered all over his face.

" _C'mon_ , mate. What _'ya_ gonna do?", the ginger-haired asked as a way to distract him as he frantically started tugging at the handcuffs on his wrists.

Pity his back was facing the wall-length mirror and Magnus could see his every move.

With unnatural slowness, the Auror raised his wand on his harmless opponent. " ** _Imperio_** _!_ ", he commanded, and a jolt of yellowish green light came out of it and ran through the air before it hit Grinder Smith.

Magnus had never used an Unforgivable before, but the sensation that filled him when he noticed that the other wizard had stopped struggling with his handcuffs to blankly stare at him, waiting for his command, wasn't one of horror.

" _Jump_ ", he ordered, and when Grinder did precisely that and kept bouncing off the floor until he told him to stop, that's when he finally realised why Lord Voldemort had seemed so fond of his _dogs_.

It was sad he had to dispose of his own before he could have some fun with it.

"You'll return to your interrogation and you'll keep up with whatever attitude you've been putting up until now. Don't go back on the things you already revealed, it'll make them suspicious, but do not share any new information. You are for no reason to mention your leaders or myself. You've never seen me before I escorted you to the bathroom", Magnus said, eager to get to the part of his plan where he secured his cover.

Grinder nodded his head, and the Auror investigated his expression for a minute straight, making sure the curse was properly working.

His eyes didn't look dazed or watery, and for all intents and purposes, the man had now on his face a smuggle expression that was almost identical to the one he'd had while getting out of the interrogation room.

Magnus Loughty was dying to know what exactly had been confessed during the first round of interrogatory, but to do that he needed to wait for the right opportunity to steal his dossier, which presumably would have contained the written record of it.

He was taking a wild guess like never before in his life.

Nothing assured him that his superiors hadn't been given enough elements to suspect of him under any capacity, and what if Grinder's tongue had slipped about the Scarlett Order?

"I want you to confess all the physical harm you did to Draco Malfoy, and I want you to rile Potter and Weasley up as much as you can. Then, when your position is so aggravated your only alternative is a lifetime sentence in Azkaban, I want you to commit suicide".

Magnus felt no guilt as he condemned Grinder Smith.

"If they stop you, attack them until they're forced to put you down. No matter what it comes to, today you die", he sentenced. "Come here, now", he called him, and the ginger-haired quickly followed the order.

He removed a small vial from the belt of his Auror uniform, and handed it to Grinder, who sent him a questioning glance.

Magnus snorted. "It's the antidote to Veritaserum. I wouldn't put it past the DMLE to resort to such measures. Go on, drink it".

Grabbing the prisoner by the arm once more, the Auror unlocked the door and the two walked their way back to interrogation number eighth.

After Grinder resumed his seat and he removed the handcuffs as his legs got chained to the chair as a safety measure instead, the only thing that was left for Magnus to do was to patiently wait and see if his plan would work.

Half-way through closing the door behind him, he sent a final look at the man who was about to be no more, feeling no pity.

"Wait until you have at least two witnesses until you carry on with the plan", he said, at last. "We don't want them to find out you didn't die _willingly_ ".

* * *

Hermione joined Harry and Ron as the two were returning from the break-room and she was entering the DMLE, marching on her high heels in a combative manner.

She'd finally changed out of the dress she'd been wearing at Pansy's afterparty, and in its stead she was sporting a black woman suit with slim fit pants and an elaborated blazer. From underneath the jacket picked a sheer blouse with black and white stripes that was carefully tucked inside her waistband, and her pumps where the same off-white of the details embedded in the outline of the suit.

Though he had been only once in Draco's hospital room, preferring to work on his case as they waited for him to wake up, The-Chosen-One knew from his fiancée about his best friend locking herself up in Malfoy's room.

Heartbroken over the blond's condition, Pansy had been careless enough to let some things slip, and after a quick session of rapidly asked questions, Harry had finally got confirmation about the fling he'd been suspecting between Draco and Hermione.

His girlfriend didn't elaborate on how serious their relationship was, but the Auror was looking forward to the moment Malfoy would wake up. He really was curious to see what kind of excuse the witch was going to come up with to justify her unmovable presence in his hospital room.

She'd bugged them until they'd relented on letting her have a couple minutes with the attacker she'd successfully managed to capture, so now Hermione was walking towards the area of the DMLE were interrogation rooms were placed.

If the request had come from anybody else, Harry and Ron would have denied it. But this was Hermione, and she'd broken rules for them way too many times not to let her have this one thing.

Even with Ron not knowing about her involvement with Draco, the lad had been almost beaten to death in the neighbourhood she owned, and it was only fair she wanted some answers.

Grinder Smith was yet to share useful information with them, but they were ready to keep him inside the room for a week straight if it meant vanquishing the new threat that was now hovering over the wizarding world.

These people weren't Death Eaters. They couldn't be. The prisoner they were about to question was of muggle heritage.

Things simply didn't add up, and it was another reason he was secretly thrilled to have Hermione's amazing rationality by his side on this one. It was no secret she'd been the mind behind most of the golden trio's ventures.

Harry was proud of his investigative skills, but he was glad to get some help on the logic department.

As they talked about the things Harry and Ron had managed to extort from Grinder thus far, the three finally reached their destination, finding the Auror who'd taken care of the prisoner during their break dutifully guarding interrogation room number eight.

They didn't spare him a second glance.

Quickly rushing to the door, the trio entered the room and was welcomed by a smug-looking Mr. Smith.

He looked very relaxed for someone who risked spending the rest of his life living with Dementors. "I see you've brought a friend with you", he observed, no change in his demeanor until he addressed Hermione directly. "To what do I owe the pleasure, Ms. Granger?"

" _Cut the crap_ ", she huffed. "Why did you go after Malfoy?"

Grinder looked genuinely intrigued by her question, and he responded with one of his own. "Why wouldn't I? The man stands for everything I despise".

Harry could see how her best friend was rapidly losing her patience, and he stepped in before things could get too out of hand. "Enough, Smith", he chided. "Hermione, calm down, please. We'll get nowhere if you jump at his throat".

Splitting one of the two free chairs into twin copies with a simple flick of his wand, The-Boy-Who-Lived invited both his best friends to take a seat. Producing the dossier of the case with another quick spell, he checked the facts once more before he set out on furthering the investigation.

"From what you've already told us there were six more wizards and three witches with you when Malfoy was attacked", he resumed. "Your common goal is, in your words, _to punish those who got off the hook too easily after the second wizarding war_ ", he read from the dossier.

"So far so good", the prisoner shrugged. "But unless you want to hear what an immense joy it was to beat Draco Malfoy within an inch of his life, I'm afraid I got nothing else to share with you".

The air crackled around Hermione in a spontaneous outburst of magic. "Come again?", she hissed.

Grinder smirked. "You just _had_ to ruin our party, didn't you?", he asked, rhetorically. "Never the one to learn her place, I'd say".

Harry knew he was deliberately trying to provoke her, but instead of sedating the confrontation he sat back and decided to let it unfold. It wasn't very often that captured criminals chose offence as their strategy while being interrogated, but maybe some changes in their approach were needed if they wanted to make some progress.

Warily eying the prisoner, The-Chosen-One waited for his best friend's rage to explode, but nothing of the sort happened.

Hermione returned the man his slimy smile. "I'm sorry, do we know each other?", she inquired.

"We briefly assisted to the same Quidditch match at the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade a couple months ago. You're the _bitch_ who broke my nose and got away with it", he spat.

Harry Potter looked at his friend, who was sitting between himself and Ron, as comprehension dawned on her face and her posture stiffened.

She remembered exactly in which circumstance the two of them had met.

"And you're the _asshole_ who prompted me to do so", she countered. "What caused you to go after Draco?"

" _Oh, how cute_. She calls him by name", Grinder mocked her. "I think it's good you're so fond of the bastard. We may have failed this once, but that doesn't automatically rule him out of our agenda".

The man seemed awfully thrilled by the speech he was delivering, and the urge to shut him up was growing strong in Harry as he listened to it.

"I wonder how long it'll be before this world is finally rid of the Malfoy family", he mused, cryptically.

The threat behind his words was in plain sight for the three to catch up, and neither Auror was surprised when Hermione rose to her feet in a sudden, sharp movement before joining him on the other side of the table. "I think you've sprouted enough of your _shit_ , Mr. Smith", she asserted, coldly. "If you don't want to talk, then that's well within your rights, I assume. I'm sure Harry and Ron here have to follow a very strict set of rules over the way they behave towards a prisoner, but luckily for me I'm merely a _civilian_. If I have to be honest, _I hope it'll hurt_ ".

Without further notice, the witch's electric blue eyes bored into the prisoner's as she raised one hand in his direction.

She'd consigned her wand in the Atrium just as every other visitor who entered the Ministry, but it had been long since she'd mastered wandless magic and she didn't need it to perform the spell she had in mind. Or any spell, to be fair.

" ** _Legilimens_!**", she chanted, with emotionless voice, before Harry or Ron could do anything to stop her.

As Hermione entered his mind and sorted through his most recent memories, the process being way slower than she remembered it, chaos ensued around her.

The witch had barely found his memory of the attack from three nights before and started looking at it when she was forcefully pushed out of Grinder's mind. _That_ was a first.

Her conscience returned to her body and she blinked, only once, to adjust her sight.

It took her no longer than a second to realize she was now sitting on the floor: her left arm hurt like hell and she was fairly aware of the increasing pounding in her head, but what really sent her off her trail was what laid on the linoleum, not far from her.

Grinder Smith's unmoving body was keeping its hold on Ron's wand.

She looked up to the other side of the room, where Harry still had his own drawn out as he breathed heavily.

The red-haired was close by, and he checked if the prisoner was still alive before he shook his head. "Smith's gone", he muttered, darkly.

Hermione was aghast. " _What happened_?"

* * *

 **[5] _Sleekheazy's_** : the potion Hermione used to tame her hair in 4th year.

 **[6]** **_PlayWizard_** : the wizarding equivalent of Playboy.


	30. OLD TOWN ROAD

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for coarse language, mentions of violence and sexual encounters; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : hello, my darlings! Here i present you chapter 30th. When I first started this story I wasn't exactly confident about my ability to persevere through it, but so far I'm managing. Apparently I managed to move past the writing block I was experiencing, and since chapter 32nd is now complete, you finally get an update. The chapter is made of Dramione with a heavy dosing of Theo, and I really hope you'll enjoy it! Have a lovely day!

p.s. _if you're liking this story, have questions or anything else, please don't forget to leave me a review!_

* * *

 **30.**

 **OLD TOWN ROAD**

 **.**

* * *

 ** _(St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical  
Maladies and Injuries, London, England;  
October 8th, 2003, around 12:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

Draco drifted in and off sleep during the first hours that followed his first awakening from the magical induced coma.

During these fragile moments of awareness, he'd been updated about his health, discovering exactly how lucky he'd been in surviving the attack, and around eleven Lucius and Adhara had visited.

He was still very weak and happened to fall asleep in the middle of conversations, like Narcissa, whom had been there since the moment he'd woken up, could testify, but overall he thought he was doing pretty good for someone who'd been unconscious for two days.

His left eye was swollen and it sent a wave of pain to his brain every single time he blinked, but at least the majority of his bones had had enough time to grow back while he still couldn't feel them. The tendons in his leg were going to take a little longer to be completely fine, but the Healer had promised him a full recovery.

Nobody tried to shield him from the fact that the one made had been a deliberate attempt on his life: his memories of the attack were very few and extremely vague, but it didn't take a genius to know that such an amount of damage had been delivered with the intention of killing him.

Through his mother he had learned that one of the aggressors, luckily, had been apprehended, but so far nothing else had transpired from the DMLE.

Apparently, it had been Hermione to catch this guy. According to his mother she had been the one to come to his rescue and prevent those people from finishing the job.

She'd also apparated him to St. Mungo's straight away, demanding for him to be placed in one of the best private rooms they had, and then she'd locked herself in it to watch over his unconscious frame until he'd woken up earlier that morning.

It was the strangest feeling ever, but Draco remembered feeling her presence around him since the end of his surgery, when the stasis she'd placed on him had been permanently removed and the wizard had started re-living random moments of his life after the awful experience of the valley of smoke.

Because he'd been distinctively aware of her closeness during his coma, the blond had been twice as disappointed when he'd opened his eyes and Hermione was nowhere to be seen.

She'd left his hospital room while Narcissa had been away searching for the Healer, and ever since then she hadn't returned.

His telephone was not on the nightstand next to his bed, or he would have texted her already.

Ten minutes were left to noon when his mother excused herself and returned to the Manor to prepare him a bag with the bare necessities and eat some lunch.

His nap was interrupted by a nurse as she came in to check on his vitals and medicate his eye, and after that his brain refused to shut down once again.

Draco needed to see her, even if it was just for a second.

One of the things he found himself enjoying the most of _not being dead_ , apart from how much his family would be crushed by his disappearance, was the perspective of further exploring his relationship with the witch.

Hermione had tip-toed into his life without him even noticing, and in a very short amount of time she'd taken ownership of quite a large section of his feelings and attention.

Very rarely the Slytherin had felt so in tune with someone, and especially after so little time, but that's the way it was, and he wasn't complaining in the slightest.

The two were yet to label their relationship, but if there was one thing his near-death experience had reminded him of, it was that _life is short_ , and he should bring himself to jump into opportunities the moment they presented themselves.

If the woman's heart ached for him in the same way his did for hers, then that was all the reassurance Draco needed before thinking about the next step.

They had to be cautious in the way they administered things, but if they put both their minds to it there was a good chance they could come out of the proverbial closet without too many problems.

There was just one small detail he had to cover before going any further with his plan. _Did she want the same?_

Draco surely hoped she did, but until he breached the subject with the witch he couldn't be sure. Perhaps it was all wishful thinking: perhaps Hermione only saw him as a funny way to spend her time, someone she was just scratching an itch with.

Though her actions and his desires were not lenient towards the option, she had never voiced its contrary out loud.

He missed her, anyway.

Narcissa had left for little over than ten minutes when he'd already pondered over everything of importance and was left with only the fact he desperately wanted her to show up in his room.

If only to make sure she hadn't been hurt while saving his sorry ass, he needed to see her in one unharmed piece.

His lucky star decided to grant his wish, and as Draco was quietly browsing through the papers Narcissa had piled on top of his nightstand during the previous days, he heard some steps approaching the door.

He'd made the front cover in all seven Daily Prophet copies printed since his attack.

The things that had been written weren't exactly what the victim of such a vicious attack would want to read, and the blond wizard was torn between his desire to break something and the urge to puke.

The fact he'd been in St. Mungo's _and_ in a coma was usually mentioned briefly, as if it wasn't of much importance, and most of the articles were a mere recount of his past that dangerously kept focusing on the second wizarding war.

The year he'd lived with muggles as part of his sentence, deprived of his wand and completely cut out from his mother, or the fines his families still paid to the Ministry? _Forgotten_.

The fact he'd become a father since then and publicly advocated his opinion against Pureblood supremacy? _Nowhere to be found_.

The six months he'd trained to become an Auror? _Nothing_.

And mostly, what about the fact his very public sentenc had contained the words 'forced to become a Death Eater to save his life and his mother's'? _Not mentioned_.

They'd spoken of Adhara, divulging a picture he'd not given them the permission to share, only once, and after the description of what hypothetically he could have done during his time in Voldemort's service based on the crimes his followers were known for.

The fact they had brought his daughter up after recounting the rapes and murders of muggle women and men that had occurred during both wars had made Draco feel sick.

He didn't want the love of the public opinion, but did they really need to kick him while he was already down, barely alive, and to drag Adhara in it?

In that moment the door opened, and the wizard was welcomed by the sight he'd been wishing for.

Hermione entered the room and for a moment she stood there, dumb-struck, staring at him while still holding the handle. Her whole face lit up as she gave him the happiest smile he'd ever seen on her face.

"Hey, you", she whispered, and before he could think of any witty response the witch was already at his bedside, sitting on the little space of the mattress that wasn't occupied by his body. "I knew it couldn't be the last I'd seen of you".

 _Nice to see you too, love._

Her confession was encouraging, especially since Draco was still trying to wrap his head up around the things he was reading just a minute ago, and it warmed his heart a little.

The wizard never managed to share his feelings out loud, however, because she threw her arms around his neck and locked their lips together.

It wasn't the first kiss they shared, and probably not their best, considering he was still a bit sore all over and not too perceptive to outer inputs, but not once before she'd seemed so eager, and _hungry_ even.

Hermione had a smile on her lips as they brushed on top of his own. One hand lost in Draco's hair, she either played with his tongue or put her teeth to good use as she gently nibbled at his lower lip from time to time, all the while producing quiet little whimpers that under normal circumstances would have probably sent him out of edge on their own.

The witch was practically sitting on his lap now, one knee on the side of each of his thighs, when the pair broke off the kiss to catch their breaths. Letting go of the back of his head, she wrapped her arms more tightly around his shoulders, and rested her forehead on the crook of his neck.

Despite his condition of blood-loss, healing bones and post-coma headache, thanks to which he currently wasn't properly _functional_ for sex, Draco still had to mentally scold himself before he could gather enough will power to remove his hands from her ass.

"I missed you", he muttered, quietly.

Hermione, who up until that point had been peppering his entire face in kisses, abruptly stopped her ministrations to look up at him. "I missed you, too", she sighed. "I never felt so powerless in my life. I'm used to open threats, that way I can clearly identify the problem and do my best to solve it. But not knowing who I'm up against…"

The blond knew what she meant, and he was sure their opponents' choice to remain anonymous was not casual. "I have no idea how, but we'll get to bottom of this", he promised her.

Turning their embrace in a one-sided hug, he grabbed a random copy of the Prophet from his nightstand and handed it to her.

"What is this?", the brunette asked, but before her question was even complete her blue eyes were already scamming through the contents of the front page of the morning edition from yesterday. "The nerve of this woman", Hermione added, angrily, and she didn't need to call the witch's name for the Slytherin to know just whom she was talking about.

All articles covering his accident were signed by the same reporter: the one and only _Rita Skeeter_.

"For a journalist, she has quite a habit for disregarding facts and projecting her far-fetched theories and conjectures on a wider scale. I can't believe there's still people who read the _shit_ she writes", said Draco.

"Get in line, then. I joined the party in 1995", she told him, the corners of her mouth twitching up in a grim smile. "I guess I'll just have to remind Tracey of asking Susan Bones about that new director the Daily Prophet has", she announced. "I was gonna hire a private detective for this one, but it looks like we don't have much time. Honestly, it's like she's inviting the attackers to have another go at you".

"At least I'm not the only one who sees it that way", he replied. "But maybe these people will get caught before they can try. I don't think my memories of the night will be of much use, considering they stunned me from behind my back, but hopefully Potter will manage to get some names out of the guy that didn't escape. Thank you about that, by the way. Mother said it's you who got me out of certain death".

Hermione averted her eyes from the paper to send him a strange look. "Well, about that…", she sighed. "I was at the Ministry just now".

The words coming out of her mouth he valuated as positive, at least in potential, but the tone in which they were spoken made Draco wary. "And?"

"The man I stopped. His name's Grinder Smith. He didn't give away any names", the witch started, uncertainly.

"It's not as if every criminal confesses straight away when he's brought to the DMLE", he countered.

"You're absolutely right", Hermione conceded, and there again, much to his dismay, she was eyeing him sadly. "But I'm afraid it's too late for him to talk. He's _dead_ now, Draco".

The blond refused to believe his ears: just when he was thinking the mystery surrounding his aggression was about to be exposed, Fate had decided to pull yet another trick on him.

One man captured meant they could obtain information about his nine companions: it wouldn't have been the first time in the history of the Auror department that a prisoner snitched on his crime-chums in the hope to strike a decent deal for himself.

But now the man had turned corpse, and Draco was back at square one.

He'd been almost killed and a very serious attempt had been done on the lives of the rest of his family the night the Manor had been set on fire, and now he was getting butchered by the press.

It was even worse than it had been right after the war. Back then, the wizard had at least made his fair share of bad choices.

But the only thing he was doing now was _daring to exist_ , and he wasn't going to bury his head in the sand any longer.

"What happened to him?"

Only now he noticed there was the ghost of a massive cry in her gaze.

He'd felt so happy when he'd first laid eyes on her pretty face, that he had failed to notice the pale stripes messing with her foundation or the mascara dotting her under-eye.

Hermione broke their embrace and placed both hands on his shoulders.

A tropical ocean clashed with the cloudy sky of an autumn's afternoon when their eyes met, and her voice was a soft little thing when she spoke again. "When you gave the first signs of waking up I left to change out of my outfit from three nights ago and connected the floo at the Penthouse to the Ministry's network", she said. "Once I got there I jumped into Harry and Ron, and after some convincing on my part I got them to make me talk to him. He was the idiot I punched at The Three Broomsticks a couple months ago, by the way".

The witch stopped and took a deep breath, as if needing to reorganize her ideas, but Draco didn't give her the chance to continue.

"Did _you_ kill him?", he asked quite bluntly.

There wasn't an answer to his question that he would prefer more than another, in all honesty: as much as he hoped Hermione had not tainted her soul for him, on the other hand the thought stirred an emotion in his chest that was vaguely familiar. _Pride_.

 _Come what may_ , Malfoys were about as attached to their honour as the roots of trees to earth, and it felt good to imagine the woman he loved defending his name and demanding the ultimate price for the wrong he'd suffered.

Hermione's reply was even more intriguing than that, though.

"Well, I did and I did _not_ ", she professed. "I did it, but _not directly_ ".

Draco snorted. "Care to elaborate?"

"For the first twenty minutes of his interrogatory all he did was mocking us and gloating about what he did to you. _So_ , I lost my _temper_ ", she confessed. "I used Legilimency on him".

"Did you find anything of use?", the wizard inquired, curious to see if there was still a little hope he and his family (and Daphne, and Hermione's cat, Crookshanks) could get some justice.

"Sadly, I was there for barely three minutes when I was pulled out of his memory of the night", Hermione said. "I was on the floor when I returned to reality. Grinder Smith was there, too. In the heat of performing the spell I had gotten closer to him, and as I entered his mind he somehow managed to grab me by the neck. While I had no idea of what was happening around me, Ron jumped on us to stop him from killing me. His legs were chained to the chair, so it shouldn't have been too difficult to overpower him".

"But _it was_ ", Draco suggested.

The witch shook her head. "Smith never tried to defend himself from Ronald's blows at his face. He made him think he was defeated so that he could get a hold of his wand".

At that, the blond immediately started checking what little he could see of her body while she wore the suit, looking for injuries. "Did he hurt you?"

"He never got the chance", she replied. "In the time he broke the chains Harry put a Shield Charm on me. When Grinder tried to _Avada_ me, _well_ … Turns out he failed to duck his own spell when it was reflected".

"Tell me you're not serious about this". Draco went paler than he already was. "Merlin, you almost died today", he exhaled when she never complied to his request.

"Really, I'm not the one you should be concerned with right now".

"Do you realize you could have died before I saw you?"

The thought had just now crossed his mind, and it was one Draco dreaded.

His hurt and anger were made perfectly known through the pointed look he sent her way, to which she had the decency to reply with a shameful one.

"Just promise me you'll be around _the next time_ ", he joked, trying to ease the atmosphere a little. "I could do with some welcome back kisses".

He raised his left hand to place it on one side of her face, at first, one thumb drawing invisible circles on the smooth skin of her cheeks. Then, with the same finger, he headed south and trailed the path to her mouth.

She kissed his thumb. "You can have all the kisses you want if you promise me that you'll do anything in your power to avoid a repeat", she whispered her counter-offer through parted lips.

He knew what she really meant – _Keep your cool, Draco, don't act on your pain while it's still too strong and fresh_ – but not in a hundred years he could have predicted the next words she spoke.

The blond smirked. "Deal".

He felt it was appropriate to seal it with one of the many kisses he was planning on requiring in virtue of their accord, but she stopped him at barely the distance of a breath.

"I'm not saying we're giving up on finding out the truth about what happened the other night, or at the Manor. I will find them and then I'll go after whoever else was involved in both plots. And I can promise you, Draco, that they _will_ suffer for what they did to you", Hermione vowed.

He was about to reply when she waved him off.

"Let me finish, please", the witch pleaded. "I need to make sure you're making an informed decision, Malfoy. Evidence says that they would have probably never come after your family if I hadn't come back to England, found out about my connection to Theo and annoyed a great deal of people. For messing up your life, _I am sorry_ ".

"Honestly, Granger, you're going completely off the rail…"

"Let me finish, I said", she chastised. "I want you to know that any kind of involvement with me exposes you to danger. You've already been hurt, and by reflection your entire family has suffered. Also, you have your daughter to think of. The Prophet already showed her face to the entire wizarding world".

He raised a brow, interrupting her. "I thought you refused to the read the Prophet. How do you…?"

Eyeing him warily, Hermione sighed as she hastened to respond. "Your mother was _livid_ about it, and understandably so. They deserve a full-on multi-billion sue. But as I was saying, I feel compelled to ask you to think about _whatever is this thing we have with each other_. I can offer many means of protection, but I won't always be around. With the way things are escalating, that scares the _hell_ out of me", she admitted.

They sat silently on his hospital bed for something around two minutes as Draco digested her confession.

When he finally spoke up, he only had one question for her.

"How would you define _whatever is this thing we have with each other_?"

"I honestly have no idea", Hermione said, although demurely. "Is that really the only thing you got out of my entire speech?"

"Well, it's the only one _I_ care about", he replied. "Even if you're right and the only reason they decided to act on their hate for my family is because you returned to England, Granger, that doesn't mean they'll stop now that they've started".

"But maybe they'll leave you alone for a while if they're too busy chasing me on the other side of the world", she suggested.

There was an uncertainty in her voice that he hoped to be due to her repulsion of the idea rather than the concept itself.

It was time to find out the truth, he supposed.

"And maybe my great-grandfather Septimus would have been a carriage if only he had wheels **[7]** ", he smirked. "As long as they're not in Azkaban I won't be able to consider myself safe. And to be completely honest I do hope I find myself in the presence of these people again. Only it would be nice to be _facing_ them this time around".

Hermione shot him a reproachful look. "See that you also have back-up before you get yourself killed because of your _testosterone_ ", she sneered.

"If you have to trust me on just one thing for the rest of your life, Granger, let it be this one", Draco said. "Just because I don't particularly enjoy violence, it doesn't mean I can't stand up for myself if it comes down to it. The last time someone underestimated me, Death Eaters got into Hogwarts".

"Just promise me you'll be careful, then", she conceded. "And that you won't drag my brother into a midnight duel anytime soon".

"I suppose Blaise will have to do– ".

"Call _me_ , Malfoy", Hermione whispered. She added, louder, "I'll help you. Let it be next week or next month. Even if I'm in Australia, call me and I'll help you. Regardless of how things are between each other at that point".

"Do you think they'll change?", he asked.

 _Was she trying to break up with him?!_

If she was, that was… _sudden_.

"They're bound to", the witch sighed. "As much as I'm enjoying the time we currently spend together, I'm not sure what will happen if we continue".

"I can't tell you what will happen", Draco said. "But there's only one way to find out. And that is…", he paused, and grabbed her hands in his. "… _Together_ ".

"Together?", she repeated. Hermione's first instinct was clearly to put some distance between them, but she fought against it and ended up winning. "What exactly am I committing to, Malfoy?"

 _This was his chance_.

She had just explicitly asked him to define their relationship, and all that was left for him to do was to put the _fucking_ label on it.

Unexpectedly, Draco was suddenly unable to speak: he was damn sure about what he wanted but discovering what were her thoughts on the matter could turn into an awful experience very quickly for him.

 _Baby-steps, perhaps?_

"You're committing to _not leaving_ without saying goodbye. I know what I'm about to say is gonna make me look like an idiot…", he started. "But one of us has to take the risk, and I don't mind it being me".

"What are you…? Draco?", she called, but her appeal fell on deaf ears.

Here he was trying to _declare himself_ and yet Hermione couldn't stay quiet for a second. "Look, Granger", he sighed. "What I'm trying to say is that I _like_ you. I _care_ for you". _I love you_. "All I want to know is if I occupy the same place in your heart which I did when we first reconnected. I want to know if I'm allowed to tell my friends that I'm dating a girl I can see myself falling for, if I haven't already".

Actually pronouncing the words had to be one of the toughest things he'd done in his adult life, but once they were out of his mouth, Draco felt surprisingly free.

His feelings, or at least their surface, were out in the open, and he was oddly excited about it: chances were Hermione was still going to rectify the situation and finally tell him to fuck off, having realized she could do much, much better than him, but at the same time it was glorious to be eventually out in the open.

The woman was taking her time producing an answer: her cheeks were an adorable shade of pink, and half a smile could be seen on her lips, fighting its way through a grimace.

"This is gonna be so hard", she whispered. Then she leant closer and closed the distance between their mouths. Her kiss wasn't deep, but it still conveyed just a hint of desperation. "I like you, too. But I hope we both know that there's no turning back if it comes out".

"I'm determined to make it work", Draco reassured her. "If things go as I'm planning them, there won't be no turning back. Not on us".

At that, Hermione visibly relaxed in his embrace. It hadn't occurred to him until now that perhaps she was plagued by the same doubts he had.

"Pansy already knows", she said, practically.

"Well, _obviously_ ", he chuckled. "There's not much left to imagination when you find two people sleeping naked in the same bed".

"She _already_ knew", the witch corrected. "She's been informed since day one, really", she confessed, sheepishly.

Even though he'd suspected it, Draco was still surprised by the admission: Pansy's notoriously loose tongue had not slipped once on the matter.

His old self would have been offended by her silence, by her decision of not telling him she knew his secret, but the new one understood why the dark-haired witch had decided to mind her own business.

He had done precisely the same, and Pansy wasn't going to force him to talk about it. He would have gone to her and did so when it felt right.

"I'll tell my brother the next time I see him", Hermione continued. "I want to be the one who tells him, if that's okay with you".

The blond was about to make a snide remark about how she'd already promised to inform Theo and never did so, but thought better of it.

Draco didn't want to push his luck. He and Hermione were looking as if they were on the same page, and all he cared about as of right now was to rejoice over the fact: the discussion was far from closed, and he knew it wasn't going to be possible for them to just hold hands, stroll around Diagon Alley and call it a day, but he was willing to do anything in his power to make the most out of their new relationship status.

He was clever enough to recognize his true chance at happiness when it was parading _naked_ in front of him.

The Slytherin managed to stay awake for almost another twenty minutes, during which he lazily enjoyed the care and companionship his former enemy was providing – and with _all strings attached_ , thank you very much.

It was nearly one p.m. when the witch reluctantly got out of his embrace and left the room to join Potter and Weasley once again, hoping to find out more about the strange circumstances surrounding Grinder Smith's death.

As the door closed behind her back, Draco made a mental note to discuss his theory with her in the future.

 ** _There was a mole in the Ministry_**.

* * *

 ** _(Nott Manor, somewhere in Dorset, England;  
October 10th, 2003, around 19:00 p.m.)_**

* * *

Two days went by before Hermione eventually met up with her brother, due to a combination of their extremely busy schedules and her reluctance over finally opening her heart up to him.

Theo had invited his sister for dinner, and though she still wasn't too comfortable with the idea of _casually apparating_ to Nott Manor as if she owned the place, at the same time she knew that she needed him in a good mind-place while breaking down the news to him.

The witch really didn't know what to expect from the evening: her twin could be as stubborn as a mule, hot-headed and sometimes a little childish – all traits they shared, apparently, or at least according to Pansy.

He wasn't supposed to have a problem with her relationship (was it that they were calling it now?) _per se_ , after all she'd heard him encouraging Draco in pursuing his feelings for her while eavesdropping in this very Manor, but she had lied to him for months, nonetheless.

She wasn't sure he could easily go past such a thing, not after she'd nagged him for months about his fake relationship with their cousin Daphne, which she'd been quite determined to destroy.

Of course, Hermione had done so only with his best interest in mind, a fact of which she'd luckily been able to convince Theodore himself, who no longer seemed to hold a grudge about it. _But still_.

She usually wore her confidence as an armour, but on this particular Tuesday she found herself walking the ancient hallways of the lavish building as metaphorically naked.

The idea of her brother giving her the same cold shoulder as Jane and William was one she dreaded, and without a doubt that specific scenario would have been chosen by a _Boggart_ if an exemplar of the species happened to haunt Nott Manor.

Hermione felt like a scared little girl, and she didn't like it one bit.

Taking a deep breath, she finally turned the last corner and walked past the stone archway to enter the dining room.

The massive table which could have easily accommodated an entire Quidditch team and their families was empty if not for the white centerpiece on top of which stood proudly a beautiful flowerpot.

A smaller table of the same wood and two complementary chairs had been set up in one corner, not far from the fireplace.

Theo was already sitting there, with half a _Viognier_ _glass_ of white wine in front of him, but his attention was currently on his phone, and he didn't notice right away when she arrived.

" _What's so funny_?", she asked, curiously.

"Hey, there. Just _compilations_ of people doing stupid things and getting hurt", he replied, pressing the little button on one side of the device that locked the screen. His blue eyes shined with amusement. "There's this Polish guy who tried to stick his shoe stoles to his broomstick. It didn't end well".

"The spell didn't work?", Hermione inquired. A modified version of the _Permanent Sticking Charm_ was what she personally used to fly, amongst other things, and she wondered how this person could have failed so miserably. "Or did he forgot to tie the shoes up?"

Taking the free seat in front of her brother, she only caught a glimpse of his smirk.

" _Better_ ", Theo chuckled. "He didn't even manage to leave the ground. Well, his feet did, but his chest remained on the ground. He knocked his head on a rock, so he had been unconscious for a couple hour, apparently, until someone passed by and helped him out".

"I can see why that would be funny to watch", she said. "And I'm glad people in Poland are buying my stuff. Is he fine, though?"

"They didn't say", her brother shrugged. "But the comments section didn't mention a funeral, so the worst injury was probably the one on his pride".

She laughed at that. There was no way wizarding medicine couldn't have fixed a simple concussion, but she knew it must had been awful for the guy to face his friends, family and acquaintances once the video had become viral.

"The saddest part is that he was _recording_ it. He was totally convinced he was gonna make it", Hermione told him after a while. It was more of an afterthought, really: she felt positively _gloomy_ that day. Helping herself with a glass of wine from the bottle sitting on top of the table, she was about to speak again when she was interrupted by the " _Pop_!" of a House-Elf apparating in the dining room.

"Miss Eloise!", Praline greeted her with a happy smile, bowing down until her forehead almost crashed with her knees. Her uniform had been replaced by what looked like a tutu stolen from a very chubby little girl of approximately six years of age. If that wasn't enough, it was lilac, and it clashed terribly with her ashy complexion.

Theo sent her an unapologetic look. "Since they really are free to leave whenever they want, I thought they had the right to fully dress as they please", he explained. "I really should have thought about it sooner".

He was looking at Praline's tutu, too, which was accompanied by yellow sandals she was wearing with purple socks.

"It would be a boring world if we all liked the same things", she managed to say, biting back a laugh. "Hello, Praline", she finally greeted the Elf. "It's nice to see you again".

"Praline is very happy you _is_ here again", the creature replied, sounding so genuine Hermione found it surprisingly easy to overlook her grammar mistake.

It's not as if there were schools for House-Elves or people who cared about their education. That was another item for her list: if a kindergarten for magical children was much needed, the same rule applied to them.

Elves could read and do math better than many wizards and witches she knew, if Hermione really wanted to make a difference and improve their lives, then that route was one she had to explore.

Those residing in Nott Manor had _privileges_ most creatures of their species couldn't afford.

They were free, which meant they could spend all the time they wanted in the magnificent library on the ground floor, or apparate themselves elsewhere for the same purpose, though unluckily they seemed to prefer more mundane hobbies. But that was fine, too, because what was freedom if not the right to decide what is it that you want from your life.

They were paid, so they owned money and were now a part of the economy, which was awesome progress considering the way Elves were treated at the time she was barely joining the wizarding world.

Still, to call it a privilege left a poor taste in her mouth.

Those were the basics.

However, since most Elves in the UK were still enslaved in the ancient castles of what was left of the worst wizarding families, those who lived with Theo were the luckiest, _blessed by the stars_ , bunch.

Stronger than ever before, Hermione felt the urge to change that.

Finding a way to make education accessible to House-Elves was definitely something within her reach, and if she went about it with strategy rather than heart, she was confident there was much more she could accomplish with time.

She still remembered how her excess of enthusiasm had basically killed _S.P.E. W_. That, and the downright _appalling_ indifference almost everybody else seemed to share for the subject.

Back in the day, it had been her knowledge to help her standing tall and proud in front of those who deemed her as someone _inferior_.

A diploma obviously wasn't going to solve all of the Elves' problems, especially considering how so many of them had interiorized the Pureblood narrative according to which serving wizarding families was the highest they could aim at, but it could trigger a chain-reaction she was really hoping to see, one that could lead to the freedom of an entire species.

But maybe she was getting way ahead of herself.

That was the thing with this particular witch: whether the name you knew her for was Hermione, Victoria or Eloise, at some point you would notice how sometimes she acted all calm and collected in matters that required _presence of heart_ , while on other occasions she would be monstrously impulsive and give up completely on her rationality and infamous penchant for logic.

What was worse was that she was quite aware of this, too, but she usually, very conveniently, just ignored the fact.

However, it was impossible to do so when she finally realized her brother was talking to her, and probably had done so for the past five minutes.

Food was on the plate in front of her, and Praline was nowhere to be seen.

She eyed the wine in her glass with gluttony, but then her eyes ventured higher and Hermione was met by a perfect _resting bitch face_.

To say she was mortified would be an understatement.

" _Shit_. I'm so sorry, I completely zoned out". It wasn't much of an apology, she knew, but at least she was being honest. "An idea came up and I got lost in plotting… and I'm probably just a generally awful person, but that's the tea for another day. What were you saying?", she added, flashing a smile that paired with her shamefully red cheeks made her look hysterical rather than… well, whatever was the look she was trying to accomplish.

"Nothing particularly important", Theo replied, his expression unchanged. "You missed the tale of Ricochet's obsession for Father's tuxedos, but no, I'm not going to repeat myself" – with that he leaned in on the table, and started to neatly work on the meat in his plate with his cutlery – "Tell me about this idea you had, instead. If it put you in such a _reverie_ , it must be good".

So she switched to _Professor-mode_ , and told him about her plan to provide House-Elves an education.

Theo seemed more intrigued by it than she was expecting, but as he started listing his own suggestions, Hermione found out that the one they were having wasn't the conversation they really needed to have.

"Forgive me for stopping you so abruptly, but this is completely _pointless_ ", she interrupted him with a circumstantial smile. She ignored his pointed look, noting that, very much like herself, her brother did not like to be cut short, and hastened to explain her reasons. "I started thinking about the program to take my mind off of the thing I really wanted to discuss with you, and I ended up distracting you too with it".

Her confession was quiet yet confident, and it immediately grabbed the wizard's attention. "What is it that you _really_ wanted to discuss with me?", he inquired.

 _It was now or never_.

Hermione looked up. Theo's meal laid in his plate, now unattended, knife and work casually scattered on both sides of it as his eyes followed her every movement.

She sighed. "I really wish there was any other way to tell you".

"And I wish you'd skip the melodrama and just tell me. It's the second time already that you circle around it", he noted with a smirk. When no answer was pronounced, he pressed: " _C'mon_ , Hermione. I dare you to find a single occasion in which I _over-reacted_ ".

He kind of had a point there. Once you got to know him, Theodore Nott was a rather quiet and overall _chill_ wizard to be around of, two qualities that made him a rather impressive listener.

This time, however, it was his _judgement_ that she was fearing rather than his general _awareness_. "You're right, I shouldn't be walking on eggshells when I discuss my personal life with my brother. I'm going to be very direct about this because I feel like I've wasted enough of your time already".

Her brother nodded, and she took it as an authorization to proceed.

" _I'm seeing someone_ ", she said. "I've been doing so for over a month. Almost two, actually, but _who's counting_?"

The blank look Theo was now sporting had nothing to do with the emotions she'd hoped and anticipated to see on his face: if anything, the former Slytherin looked careful and on the defensive.

"You're dating?", he asked, tone so casual it resembled disinterest and facial expression perfectly schooled. "If you wanted to keep me in the dark, then I believe congratulations are to be made. I genuinely had no idea".

His genuine surprise was tainted by a guilt she couldn't quite place, but unfortunately there were more pressing matters at hand.

"Yeah, well, after what happened with Lex I really wanted to keep a low profile. You know, in case things turned out just as messy", Hermione confessed. As if to remind her of the fact she had barely touched her plate, her stomach emitted an unhappy rumble. "It's still too early to determine if this relationship will go somewhere, but it's serious enough that there's no point for me to keep hiding it from you".

"You haven't stopped circling around it, though", Theodore said, accompanying his words with a suggestive wiggle of his eyebrows.

" _Touché_ ", she smiled. "Let's get this over with, then. Shall we?", the witch asked, rhetorically, before she took a deep breath and braced herself for her next revelation. "The man I'm sleeping with is Draco Malfoy".

His face fell, but she was too focused on her stream of consciousness to notice.

"We've been on several dates, and I'm at that point where I wish I could have more free time so that I could spend it with him. I suppose I should refer to him as my boyfriend, but considering it's Malfoy were talking about, that still sounds a bit far-fetched even if I've seen him naked", she continued. "I'm sorry I haven't told you about it sooner, but _please-_ _Please_ , _don't hate me_ ".

Theo took his time to digest the news and processed his reaction at a leisurely pace. "I could never hate you, Hermione", he begun. "Especially not over something as stupid as the people you're dating. You could be in love with Voldemort for all I care, and I'd still stand by your side".

She hesitated. "I, _umh_ \- _Thank you_ ".

"That being said", he waved her off. "Why did you think I'd have a problem with you and Draco being an item?"

"You don't?", she asked. "I genuinely thought you would. For starters, he's your oldest friend, and as much as I know you adore Blaise, what ties you to Malfoy runs deeper. You have dinner with his family every week!"

" _So what?_ "

"What if we're sitting on top of a gigantic bomb and it's only a matter of time before it explodes? I don't want you to find yourself between a rock and a hard place", she groaned. "What if we have the worst breakup in history and you stumble in the middle of it?"

"I'm starting to think you haven't told me yet because you're using me to project your doubts and fears, and obviously you weren't ready to face them before", Theo commented, unapologetically. "First of all, a future breakup between the two of you is not written in stone. For all we know you could end up living happily ever after in a crumbling cottage like the secret saps you both are or some other shit. And even if you part ways and say goodbye for good, who says you can't be civil about it? You're two of the more intelligent people that I know".

Hermione remained quiet for little over a minute as she let his words settle down.

She could see why he might have had a point. However, the end of a relationship was something she'd never had the occasion of mastering, and the witch doubted it was going to be any better if such a thing ever occurred between her and Draco.

The mere thought made her want to jump out of her own skin.

She didn't know why out of seven billion people in the world it was _him_ that she was falling head over heels for, but the tea had been spilt already, and there was nothing she could (or wanted to) do about it now.

"So, you're _cool_ with it?", was all she managed to express.

"Now, Hermione, I think the answer to that it's quite obvious", Theo said.

The wizard's face was still emotionless, but the glint of amusement twinkling in his eyes was a big enough hint for his sister to realize he was simply messing with her.

She eyed him suspiciously. "You _are_ cool with it", Hermione mused. "I honestly thought it would bother you".

" _Love is love_ , sweetheart", he smirked. "I don't care what you do as long as it makes you happy, and if I did, then you shouldn't care about what I think. If anything, I'm just wondering why you thought you couldn't tell me about it, Hermione. I wouldn't ask if I believed it was just you wanting to keep your things to yourself, but I'm quite sure that's not the case. From the way you're talking it was fear for my reaction that stopped you, and that actually bothers me a little".

"I was scared you were going to see it as if I've been waltzing into your life and stealing your best friend from you", she quietly admitted.

Her brother looked dumb-struck. "Say what?"

"Well, you've been knowing him since forever, and…", she stopped in the middle of the sentence.

It had taken her voicing certain doubts to realize just how stupid they sounded, and now that she'd finally become aware of the fact, she wasn't going to dwell on them any further.

"I'm sorry, Hermione, but you have to be delusional to come up with something like that", said Theo. "I don't know what kind of people you've been dealing with until now, but that's not how things work where I come from. First of all, Draco's not my property. You can't steal him from me".

"You know that's not what I meant", she protested, weakly.

"Second of all, I can only be supportive if two of the people I love the most in this sodding world for some unexplainable reason are making each other happy. You were right about that, it's weird to think of him as your _boyfriend_ ", he cringed. "And lastly, Hermione, I'm only glad you have eventually waltzed into my life, as you've so picturesquely put it".

His voice had dropped several octaves after her name, but she'd heard him loud and clear. Having no idea what the proper answer could be, the Gryffindor opted for good old honesty.

"Ron wasn't as supportive when Harry started dating his sister the first time. Or the second", she confessed. "They never said a word about it in front of me, and I hardly believe they've discussed the matter in private, stubborn mules that they are, but something changed in their relationship after Harry and Ginny became a couple. I would know, since I've spent a year with them in a tent not long after the first breakup happened".

"I'll let you know that I'm not a bloody Weasley, and the worst of the bunch at that", Theo snickered. He stopped laughing when she narrowed her eyes. "I know you've asked me to try and be friendly and, believe me, that's what I did, but I honestly just don't like the bloke very much", he admitted. " _However_ , his issues with Potter have nothing to do with Ginevra".

"Says who?", Hermione inquired.

"Says me. And Draco. And Pansy. And Blaise. And pretty much the entire Slytherin class of 1991", he smiled. "It's been clear since we were eleven that he was the _weaker link_ in the infamous Golden Trio. I have Potter's biography in support of my theory. It's pretty easy to be labelled the average guy if you're hanging out with _The Chosen One_ and _The Brightest Witch of Her Age_ ".

"We never thought of him as average", she countered. "Harry and I were magically starved when we started Hogwarts, but Ron grew up in the wizarding world. If anything, we looked up to him quite a lot, especially in in our first years. Harry definitely did so more openly than I".

Her brother grimaced. "Look, Hermione, I'm not here to judge your friendship with him or the value of his character. I think he made that clear by himself the day he left the two of you to rot in the woods", he said.

Then he completely ignored the reproachful look she sent his way. That was how he felt, and even her disapproval wasn't going to change it.

There was a reason he'd punched the _Weasel_.

Growing up, Theodore had made his mission of distancing himself from his father: as much as Cantankerus had been greedy and narrow-minded – attributes that eventually led him to being one of Tom Riddle's personal _dogs_ and from there to his downfall; his son only resembled him in physical appearance, and still he looked more Greengrass than he did Nott.

Theo hated violence, but some things were simply unforgivable, and abandoning his seventeen years old sister and Potter in the outskirts of the Forest of Dean while Snatchers were looking for her all over Britain was one of them.

On the other hand, Ronald Weasley wasn't the only person he'd punched in the face since reconnecting with his alienated twin. However, Lex Martin had tried to do to her, failing miserably, something equally _outrageous_.

"My point is, I don't think his sister was the reason he grew bitter towards Potter", he pressed. "We're talking 'bout years of piled jealousy and resentment, things were bound to blow up at some point if you throw a war in the mix".

Hermione frowned. "Things weren't that bad", she felt compelled to say, but not sounding very convincing. "I mean, were they?", she asked, more to herself, lowering her eyes just as dramatically as her tone of voice. "I figured something must have happened after I left. They can barely share a couch for twenty minutes before they're at each other's throats, nowadays".

When she looked up again Theo was smiling again, but this time it seemed to be pity rather than derision. "Must be awful to see your best friend _walking on sunshine_ with your sister as the girl you so desperately love runs to the other side of the planet and only tells said best friend where she is exactly".

"I guess it wasn't pretty for him", Hermione conceded, suddenly feeling very uneasy. According to Harry, Ron had been in love with her for almost four years when she'd taken her first plane to Australia. "Not that I could have made it any better. I've never, not once in my life, considered him romantically".

It was the truth: as much as she had cared (and still did) for Ronald, he'd never possessed what it took to catch her interest in that sense.

"I thought so", he said. When she eyed him curiously, a silent ' _Care to elaborate?_ ', Theo shrugged. "We may or may not had a bet going on about the two of you".

"Yeah, Pansy told me about that", she laughed. It had been after the improvised Quidditch match at the Burrow of almost two months before, and for a brief moment she wondered if her best friend had finally gotten her fifty Galleons from Millicent Bullstrode for winning that bet. "For hating Gryffindors so much, your lot of snakes definitely spent an incredible amount of time discussing our private lives".

He blushed. "I suppose that's what you do when your arguments are less compelling than those of your opponent", the wizard supplied. "They couldn't prove our supremacy, so they tried to discredit you".

"Rita Skeeter definitely did a much better job at that", declared Hermione.

"I was never a big fan of that kind of gossip, anyway", he cut short.

It was a conversation they'd had many times already.

Theo had never personally attacked her when they were students, verbally or otherwise, and he'd already apologized profusely for never standing up to his friends in the occasions they'd done so, but usually he took his sweet time to make sure his sister knew that he regretted it.

Today, however, his focus was on something else.

"A boy and a girl grow up together and, at some point, he falls for her, but she doesn't reciprocate his feelings. It's the oldest story in the book. What really happened between you and Weasley is that he could have been a man about it and declare himself to you, get rejected, take some time to forget you and be the best friend you needed by your side while fighting in a bloody war", he said. "But he didn't".

Hermione found that his words stung, and that was because they were true. Instead of providing an emotional response, she opted for letting him finish his piece.

Anybody hardly ever give Theo enough credit, but he had an empathy she considered very rare to find in the present wizarding world.

"Instead he decided to let his feelings grow and pile up, probably started to resent you somewhere along the way, and canalized his dissatisfaction on a blossoming relationship which, quite frankly, both Potter and his sister fucking deserved to have after enduring so much pain. _He's not the only Weasley son who lost a brother, is he?_ ", he elaborated.

"I agree with you", she replied, seriously. "He should have been happy for Harry and Ginny. Merlin knows how much some happiness was needed in our lives after the Battle of Hogwarts".

His last comment made her think.

She knew how heart-broken Ron had been after his death, but they'd all lost Fred that day. They _all_ missed him every day.

By the way he sometimes talked and acted, it seemed as if he thought to be more entitled to the pain than anybody else, and it was even worse if the person suffering for the loss wasn't part of the Weasley clan.

Back then she hadn't paid much attention to it, but was annoyance the emotion on Ronald's face when she'd started crying at his funeral? Or was it because she was cradled in George's arms and the two had been comforting each other?

Was his jealousy romantic or a mere cry for attention?

"He should have been happy for them even if he couldn't have _you_. That's where I personally draw the line", Theo finished for her.

She nodded. "Well, I can't say I don't feel awkward around him. He's married and he hasn't tried anything, and probably he stopped thinking about me a long time ago, but-".

"But?", he pressed.

"I wish Harry never spelled it out loud for me", Hermione sighed. "I've had my suspicions over the years, but like you said, he never declared himself or anything like that. I thought he had a stupid crush and that over time he'd move on. The big fight we had before I left for Australia is actually one reason why I stayed there for longer than I originally planned".

"We definitely should bring up the subject again in the future, but now I feel like we're getting a little side-tracked", the wizard said, grabbing the bottle of wine on the table by the neck and pouring a generous glass for both. Then he raised his own in her general direction. "I believe congratulations are in order here", he grinned. "I'm happy for you, Hermione. I really am. For Draco as well".

She tapped her silver goblet against his. "Thank you, Theo", she smiled back. "It means a lot to me to have your support. I was terrified you'd be mad at me for going out with Malfoy, but now that we've talked about it I kind of wish I had told you sooner".

His smirk grew wider. "What can I say? I'm bloody _awesome_ ".

They laughed it out before Hermione abruptly jumped to another topic.

"They almost killed him this time", she said, her tone becoming serious once more. "Whoever did it, we're not even a fucking inch closer to get them". She sipped on her wine.

Theo put down his glass, pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a sigh.

He'd been kept up to date with the investigations over Draco's aggression, and so he already knew about what had happened in the Ministry two days before. The only witness they had was gone with the wind, and so far there was little to zero hope of ever finding those responsible.

Unless they struck again.

The possibility was one he dreaded: he didn't want to lose his best mate, and he definitely didn't wish to see his sister heart-broken over the death of said best mate.

On the one hand he wanted these people to be apprehended, but on the other, Theo was hoping they didn't get the chance to hurt anybody else. Especially those he personally cared about. "They'll make a mistake, eventually", he reassured her, half-heartedly. "Let's just hope no one else will have to suffer before they do".

"It's Draco's belief, and I admit that I'm with him on this one, that there might be a mole in the Ministry", Hermione shared. "He thinks it's because they managed to align their attack with the moment the Aurors doing the security at Pansy's party changed shifts, but it's something else that's been bothering me. The man that was captured, Grinder Smith… _Why_ did he kill himself? He could have co-operated and gotten himself a good deal with the DMLE. Harry and Ron said he gave no sign of self-harm tendencies in the two days he was in the Department's custody".

What she was saying made sense.

He'd met the guy, too, that time in Hogsmeade, and he didn't strike Theo as the type who would ever even think about taking his own life. Too self-entitled, too arrogant.

Some things didn't quite add up to the mix, but perhaps they were merely missing some crucial details.

Unluckily for them, it was too soon to tell what the truth was.

The only thing he could do now was to check and see if Hermione really was unaffected by Mr. Smith's death: she hadn't seemed particularly shaken when telling him about it the first time and she didn't seem upset about it now, but he knew that with his sister things usually were not the same as they looked.

"I think you and Draco should let the Aurors take care of everything", he said, but he sounded unconvinced. There was no way to keep either of them away from a puzzle if they had already decided to solve it. "But since I believe you won't, let me know if I can help in any way".

Hermione grinned wickedly, and right then right there Theodore knew he was screwed. Whatever it was that she was about to ask, the glint in her eyes suggested it that it was not born out of flippant improvisation.

" _The Nott's seat in the Wizengamot_ ", she declared. " _I want you to take it"._

 **[7]** " ** _would have been a carriage if only he had wheels_** ": it's a rough translation of an idiomatic expression belonging to my native language. (I'm not sure if it's funny this way, lol, or if English already has a better equivalent).


	31. MY STRANGE ADDICTION

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**.

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 **Author's notes** : hello! New chapter for you at the end of my notes. Not much to say this time around, just be ready for some interesting things to happen in the future. The evil guys are a lot of own to write, so expect more in the future.  
I also changed my username, hopefully this is the last time lol.  
As usual, please let me know what you think! Have a lovely day!  
But mostly, happy reading! :))

p.s. I started adding lyrics from the songs that give their titles to the chapters. I also edited the old ones in case you're curious!

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 **31.**

 **MY STRANGE ADDICTION**

 **.**

" _don't ask questions, you don't wanna know  
learned my lessons, way too long ago  
to be talkin' to you, belladonna  
shoulda' taken a break, not an oxford comma  
take what I want when I wanna  
and I want ya_

 _bad, bad news one of us is gonna lose  
I'm the powder, you're the fuse  
just add some friction _"

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor: family parlour – Wiltshire, England;  
October 16th, 2003, around 07:35 a.m.)_**

* * *

Draco grunted and stared blankly at the fireplace as Lucius' laughter echoed through the room. He was _pissed_.

It was Adhara's first day of school at the _Athena Foundation for Gifted Children_ in WizVille _,_ the wizarding equivalent of kindergarten which Hermione was responsible for and _so_ excited about.

He guessed she had a point. Home-schooling was probably the trickiest and most dangerous of the Pureblood traditions that still existed: not only it provided children an education that was inadequate, as he remembered fairly well how stupid and magically incompetent most of his peers had been during his first year at Hogwarts, but it was also the most fertile ground to lay down the roots of prejudice.

He was extremely happy, grateful even, that Adhara had been given the possibility to be part of the first experimental class, the one that was supposed to set the standard for the years to come, but the fact he was confined in the Manor while his father got to be there for her really was playing a number on him.

He'd even considered asking the witch to post-pone the beginning of the term, and for that he was a little ashamed. Just a little.

Again, he was _pissed_.

He couldn't believe he was about to miss such a big milestone while the people who'd almost kill him got to still roam around freely, with the DMLE running in circles as it desperately tried to at least get their hands on a suspect.

Was that the concept of justice in the new and _allegedly_ improved wizarding world?

The little information they had came from the transcriptions of Grinder Smith's interrogatories, but so far it had proven to be completely useless. If nothing came up soon, there was a good chance his dossier would end up in the _cold cases_ pile, never to be open again.

After all, it wasn't as if the Auror Department really cared about finding out who had it out for the Malfoy heir: perhaps Potter, Weasley and a few others really did care about setting the record straight, but the majority of them weren't really keen on it, and he suspected a few others to be actually annoyed about the attack not climaxing into his death.

Draco had noticed the stares, and the discontent in the faces of those who'd been assigned to patrol the Manor.

He wasn't going to say anything, however, at least until they minded their business and kept their opinions to themselves.

He knew better than to make an enemy of the only help he was receiving, no matter how little or _unhelpful_ it was.

He'd set out in restoring the Malfoy name as soon as he'd had returned home after his year of probation living with muggles, but despite the many sit-backs and failed attempts, only now he was starting to realize he'd been wasting his time. If he was still alive, he doubted Voldemort himself would get the same amount of negative media attention he was attracting nowadays.

Finally looking up from the fireplace, he turned his head to the left to see Lucius struggling as he tried to convince Adhara not to change the colour of her socks. _Again_.

After her first magical outburst, when she'd managed to levitate one of his old toys to her bedroom in her sleep, his daughter had seemed unable to stop.

So, all curtains in the Manor were now purple, and his father's favourite tie had turned a flaming shade of Weasley red.

Draco smirked at the memory: he'd been so proud to discover his granddaughter was, indeed, a witch, that Lucius had been wearing the crimson garment ever since.

He was sporting it even now, and Draco's eyes locked on it as he watched his old man wear his autumn coat and check Adhara's backpack once more.

His mother chose that moment to enter the room.

" _Dear Merlin_ , Lucius, I thought you were gone already. Why didn't you wake me up?", she scolded him, hurrying towards the sofa so that she could take the baby in her arms.

The wizard raised his hands in defeat. "It's the first night of good sleep you got since Draco was attacked, Cissy", he justified himself. "I wasn't about to take it away from you".

"Well, you know I wanted to say goodbye", she insisted, sending him a glance that suggested the argument wasn't over yet before turning her full attention on the baby cradled in her arms. "You have fun and behave yourself, little lady", she said, kissing the tip of Adhara's nose.

The toddler chuckled and basked in her grandmother's affection, but then her face became suddenly serious, and she called for Draco.

"Daddy", she pouted, motioning her chubby little hands in his general direction until Narcissa dropped her on his lap.

She immediately went in for a hug. "Do you think the other kids will be nice to me?"

Nobody was expecting the question, and it sent the elder Malfoys in a state of mild panic: Lucius begun nervously fidgeting with an invisible wrinkle in his trousers, while Narcissa's jaw fell open and she paled.

Draco had a pretty solid guess as to why they were acting in such a peculiar way. They didn't know whose children were going to be in her class, and they feared she was going to be treated poorly just because of the family she came from.

While he shared their concerns, especially now that her picture had been published on a tabloid and she had been unequivocally stigmatized as a Malfoy, the Slytherin didn't want his daughter to be terrified of the school before even setting foot in it.

"Of course they will, love", he reassured her, looking her straight in the eyes she'd inherited from him so that she would hopefully understand how serious he was. "And if they don't, you look for Hermione and she'll call me, alright?"

Adhara still looked unsure. "But what if nobody wants to be my friend?"

This time it was Lucius who responded. "Everyone _who matters_ will want to be your friend", he said, stiffly. "And if they don't, then they probably don't matter that much".

Draco was about to open his mouth and tell him it was not his place to teach Adhara who were the people who mattered, especially considering they probably had very different opinions on the subject, but then the baby in his arms cracked a smile, and all thoughts of retaliation were forgotten.

He just loved his daughter so much.

He spoke the truth when he said she was his biggest accomplishment.

"You just have a good time, Adhara", he smiled back at her. "Everything will be fine, _I promise you_ ".

She nodded. "I love you, daddy", she said, smacking a kiss on his cheek and hitting him in one eye with her nose along the process. He didn't mind.

"I love you, too, Princess", Draco said, sitting up and hugging her one last time before returning her to Lucius.

His muscles were still a bit sore from both the beating _and_ the coma, but for the first time since he'd left St. Mungo's, the wizard was finally able to stand on his feet for more than twenty seconds without feeling nauseous.

"Take care", he said, cryptically, to his father, who just nodded his head once and kissed Narcissa on the lips before he headed for the floo.

They were gone in the blink of an eye, one of the Aurors currently on patrol following shortly after.

There really was no need for his presence there, not with all the safety-measures Hermione had personally listed for him ( _twice_ ), but it was the Ministry's protocol and there was nothing he could do about it.

He hoped he at least knew what discretion was.

He'd have hated for Adhara to be made fun of just because she had an Auror on her side.

Draco knew it was stupid, but he'd been a kid, and he knew how cruel children could be.

He'd been one of those way too many times.

He'd been standing for almost three minutes when the first wave of nausea hit him.

He did his best to hide it, but it wasn't enough: Narcissa grabbed him by the arm and nudged him towards the sofa, then sat next to him without releasing her hold on his hand.

"I know you wanted to be there", she muttered, sadly.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I always get what I want", he retorted, somehow bitterly, feeling instant remorse when Narcissa's expression hardened.

It was a conversation they'd already had: Draco was mad he'd been forced to return to the Manor so shortly after moving out, deemed by the Healers as uncapable of single parenting because of his current physical condition, and while Narcissa understood his annoyance, she felt as if he was not being very mature about it, and had already told him once to _suck it up_. With a different wording, of course.

"Everything _will_ be fine", his mother repeated his words from earlier. "We haven't survived two wars to die at the ends of _some_ \- _Some_ … _rats_ ".

"I think that's what you and Father keep misunderstanding", Draco said. "The Malfoy family didn't _survive_ two wars. It fought on the _wrong_ side and somehow got away with it both times. It's why everyone and their _bloody_ grandma hates us, and I can't really say that I blame them".

"Mind your _language_ , Draco", she replied, icily. "And do not, not even once, think that you've _deserved_ what happened to you or that somehow _you had it coming_ ".

He blushed. His mother had hit the point square in the chest.

"What they did to you was cruel, barbaric and totally uncalled for", Narcissa continued. "Your father and I have made our mistakes and we've already answered to the Wizengamot for every single one of them. And so did you, even if you were forced to take his mark".

"We could've fled and left Lucius to deal with it".

It was the first time Draco admitted it out loud, and he wasn't prepared for the look of utter despair that took reign of the woman's face.

Malfoys weren't famous for _introspection_ and talking about the hard stuff, they were more the type of family that pretended nothing was wrong until it was too late, or things eventually got better on their own.

"You're quite right, son. I should've packed us some bags and get you the hell out of this country the day your father was brought to Azkaban the first time", she replied. "It was my responsibility to keep you safe, and I so obviously _failed_ you".

A solitary tear rolled down her left cheek, and Draco felt awful: he knew his mother blamed herself for the faded outlines of the Dark Mark that marred his skin underneath his muggle tattoo.

"You did everything you could, _mum_ ", he said, gently squeezing her hand. "And I really don't want you to blame yourself. It wasn't _you_ that Voldemort was trying to punish".

Narcissa took a deep breath, returning the squeeze.

"I still decided to put my love for my husband before the safety of my son", she objected. "Your father's relatives in France never returned my letters, but I had managed to convince Summer's parents to help us. We were going to stay in their winter residence until the war ended. _In one way or the other_ ".

His family had suffered greatly at the end of the first wizarding war, and it had taken all his father's political _grace_ to remain influent inside the Ministry.

Ten years as a Death Eater had not been easy on his physical or mental health, besides he'd started questioning some of the methods of his _master_ (and the fact that him, a Malfoy, even _had_ one).

Lucius had been anything _but_ happy when Tom Riddle showed up the second time around.

He'd followed him anyway, and Draco couldn't bring himself to question him on this: he knew what it was like to have his mark, the physical evidence of the over-bearing and invincible power Voldemort had over the thoughts and wills of those who took it.

That was perhaps the most disgusting part: the action that triggered the complete annihilation of your freedom had to be " _spontaneous"_.

Icing on the cake, the more convinced you were during the ritual, the tighter was the grip the Dark Lord had on you. If your connection with him wasn't strong enough, he didn't have a problem with threatening the lives of your loved ones, anyway.

Seeing that he wasn't about to reply, yet, Narcissa cleared her throat and continued. "I had an unofficial Port-Key arranged and I had discreetly withdrawn money from our Gringotts accounts for almost two months, but when the time came… I couldn't bring myself to leave your father to his destiny".

She'd sobbed through the end of her confession, and it made Draco feel terrible for bringing up the subject.

At the same time, he was glad they were finally taking their skeletons out of their closets and being bloody honest for the first time in forever.

His parents used to leave him out of decisions of every grade of importance, and even today, well past his twenties, they sometimes treated him as a child. Even if he had his own to take care of.

"Truth is, _I wouldn't have let you do it_ ", he said. "It's one of the many reasons I'm so desperately _mad_ at myself. Even if we were already past the point of realizing his unspeakable mistakes…" His voice broke, too, but he swallowed the _oh-so-bitter_ pill. "I don't think I could have left him either".

It felt odd to finally admit it: no matter how much he despised his life choices and former beliefs, Draco still loved his father. But why did he feel so _guilty_ about it?

Narcissa released his hand so that she could wipe some tears away from her face, and then did the same for him. "You should be having this conversation with your father. I know you're angry and I know you're upset. Believe me, I was disappointed, too. But he's a changed man, Draco. All he needs if for is son to give him a chance to prove how much".

It wasn't the first time she tried to spin it that way; the witch had started dropping hints months before Lucius had been officially released from Azkaban, and even now, after half a year of icy cohabitation, every once in a while she'd suggest the two sat down and talked things through.

The Malfoy heir knew they were going to get to that point, _eventually_ , but that day wasn't today.

The crucial difference was that his mother was _in love_ with him, while Draco was merely a very discontented son: it was going to take a lot more than empty words _au claire de lune_ to patch things up between them.

He waved her off. "I'll think about it", he promised, half-heartedly. "But don't get your hopes up. I'm afraid my trust in that man is gone for good".

Narcissa's reply was cut off by the flush of the floo, where Lucius appeared in the middle of a twirl of bright green flames, temporarily ending the much needed conversation between mother and son.

" _How did it go_?"

* * *

 ** _(St. Mungo's Hospital for Magical  
Maladies and Injuries – London, England;  
October 16th, 2003, around 11:20 a.m.)_**

* * *

Monday mornings were the absolute worst for apprentice healers.

St. Mungo's got crowded with old wizards and witches demanding their weekly prescriptions, and the entire shift was spent signing papers, smiling to obnoxious people and wishing you'd passed the final exam so that you could move up in the chain and finally put your knowledge at the glorious service of science.

Astoria Greengrass had tried to take the test six times in the course of the past year and a half, presenting herself in front of the commission every time the opportunity arose and returning home with a broken heart.

At first, she'd actually listened to them: they'd said that she wasn't ready (yet), that she needed more experience on the field and to work on her approach to emergency situations.

She'd followed their advice and worked hard on her weaknesses, almost giving up her spot in the family business.

 _The Greengrass Mason_ was behind the clothes worn daily by half the English wizarding population, and as one of its creative directors she'd had her share of fun: offered the position at age sixteen, she'd helped her father securing a portion of the market that other brands completely disregarded, young people.

However, Astoria had always wanted to be a Healer, and she'd signed up for training right after graduating from Hogwarts with flying marks.

She'd always thought she'd part ways with the Mason at some point, but two years after first entering the program she was growing increasingly disillusioned with the possibility of ever passing the test.

The last time they'd openly said other candidates were less _politically inconvenient_ , and she was starting to believe that maybe it was time she said goodbye to St. Mungo's instead.

But the youngest daughter of Idabelle and Euriphides Greengrass was one stubborn witch, and she kept postponing her leave, hoping to find a way to finally figure things out.

Her lips burned at the contact with the cigarette's filter, signalling it had finished its job, and she nervously extinguished it in the ash-tray.

The muggle contraption had become quite popular in the wizarding world after the end of the war, but wizards were yet to realize how dangerous smoke could be, meaning it was still not forbidden to keep up the habit in public spaces.

Checking the pockets of her uniform for her pack of Marlboro Reds, the witch abruptly stopped in her tracks when in the far right corner of her eye she caught a glimpse of a face she was seeing suspiciously often.

Astoria had started noticing the man a week before, when she'd spotted him near the same entrance as she was coming by to visit Draco after the accident. Then she was almost sure she'd seen him lurking around the proximity of her father's atelier in Diagon Alley, and at least a couple more times in other areas of St. Mungo's.

Considering both her sister and one of her oldest friend had been attacked and seriously injured for the simple fact of being Purebloods, she'd dismissed the idea, blaming it on being paranoid, but right now she was in a fool mood, and completely done with being scared all the _fucking_ time.

She was nervous enough to smoke two cigarettes in a row, after all.

"Hey, you!", she barked in his direction. "Can I help you?"

The man's surprise at being addressed so directly was written on his face, and in the process he completely forgot about his cover and dropped to the ground the newspaper he'd been pretending to read.

He was somewhere after his thirties, but not quite into his forties, with jet black hair and a prominent nose. Astoria suspected he would have exuded charisma under other circumstances, but right now all he was confronted with was an embarrassed smile. And two eyes that were very familiar.

The wizard was too young to be part of the army of old people that invaded St. Mungo's on Mondays, and too old to be there for the beginning of the Quidditch season.

There was a slight chance he was there because of a loved one, but if that was the case, why did she personally keep bumping into this guy?

After staring into her eyes for what felt like centuries, the man finally seemed to regain his composure. " _Astoria Greengrass_ , right?", he asked, erasing all reasonable doubts about his innocence.

He _had_ been following her.

"I knew it!", she roared. "I've been seeing you everywhere!"

Without hesitation, the Slytherin drew her wand and mentally prepared herself to battle. If this person was going to try and do to her what had been done to Daphne, there was no way she would go down easily or without a fight.

"Who are you? What do you want? Why have you been following me?", she fired her questions in rapid succession, cautiously moving so that her back now faced the entrance of the hospital.

Hurting the patients of St. Mungo's? _Over her dead body_.

The wizard raised his hands in defeat. "I didn't mean to scare you. Or to be noticed", he admitted, wrinkling his nose as he voiced the second part, as if knowing how bad it sounded. "I've been trying to figure out the best way to approach you, but I wasn't planning on doing it anytime soon. _I guess this is it_ ".

"This is _what_?", Astoria snorted, slightly lowering her wand while keeping her protective stance. He said he didn't want to scare her, not he didn't want to _hurt_ her. "Who are you?", she asked again.

"Allow me to introduce myself, young lady", he said, respectfully bowing his head in the way that was proper Pureblood etiquette, which she found a bit odd. He wore a muggle suit and hadn't given any sign of having a wand in hand's reach.

"My name is _Xavier Selwyn_ ".

The surname was quite familiar, but the name was one she'd never heard of.

"I believe I'm what you would call your _biological father_ ".

* * *

 ** _(The Daily Prophet Headquarters:  
Diagon Alley, London, England;  
October 16th, 2003, around 13:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

As the quickest clock hand completed his last turn and her lunch-break officially started, Rita Skeeter cackled with glee.

Forcing herself not to rush out of her office, the reporter spent the first five minutes trying to finish up an article she was due later in the week about a blossoming romance she couldn't care less about, while in the following five she expertly fixed her makeup and hair and messed around with her wand to change the neckline of her blouse and get a fiercer cleavage.

Once she was happy with her appearance, she grabbed a dossier she'd been keeping hidden in the lowest drawer of her desk and finally sat up from her chair, walking out of hers and towards the chief editor's office.

The story she wanted Mr. Culpepper to approve wasn't one she would have gotten permission to print back at WitchWeekly, or at least not under Theodore Nott's direction.

If her information was correct, it was his best friend she was talking about.

After a monumental _fiasco_ at Pansy Parkinson's party, where she'd eavesdropped all over in her beetle form, Rita had returned home empty-handed, with just the news of Draco Malfoy nearly beaten up to death to report to both Idabelle, who'd gotten her the invitation, and her readers.

If the current shenanigans of the child Death Eater had been very quick to bore the witches who bought WitchWeekly, the same couldn't be said for those who read the Prophet.

They seemed rather obsessed with the Pureblood kid who had taken Voldemort's mark and _got away with it_.

Peeping into people's private lives was her specialty, and ever since she'd made it her mission to discover his every secret, she hadn't been disappointed even once.

The public had loved her morning piece the day after the attack, the one at which she'd managed to attach a picture of his daughter, and every article she'd written after that.

They were going to _die_ for what was currently in her hands.

Rita didn't need to knock a third time for Christian's voice to invite her to come in from the other side of the door.

"Good evening, Mr. Culpepper. I hope I'm not bothering you", she greeted him with a wide smile, careful to sway her hips as many times as it was possible in the short distance between herself and his desk. "There's a story which I believe has a lot of potential that I wanted to bring to your attention".

When she'd entered the room the American was busy putting on his coat, as if ready to head out for lunch, but upon hearing her words his attitude changed dramatically.

He dropped his coat on one corner of the chestnut surface of his desk and sat on his armchair, which looked extremely more comfortable than her own. "I'm all ears", he said, inviting her to do the same. "By all means, speak your mind".

It was the beginning, of that she was sure, of a very proficient arrangement.

"What do you know about Draco Malfoy?"

As it turned out, most of his knowledge came from her own articles, which flattered her immensely.

Christian Culpepper wasn't only a renowned journalist and a decently handsome man, but also her new boss, which made him all the more attractive.

He was also around ten years younger than her, which she always appreciated: men had a certain spark that went missing as they aged, while she had loved Dennis' energy, and how much he'd looked up at her.

Younger boyfriends were more easily manipulated, and full of a stamina that cooperated majestically with her sexual appetite.

They also made her feel youthful by reflection, which was a very welcome bonus.

"So, you're telling me the son of a Death Eater had a daughter with a muggle woman?", Christian repeated for what felt the hundredth time.

She was starting to think he was as charming as he was _dense_ , but Rita didn't like her men to be particularly clever, anyway. "What I'm telling you is that there is more. The mother died of _childbirth_ ", she shared. "I managed to track down her sister and scheduled an appointment. I'll be seeing her on Wednesday. That is, if you think I should go ahead with the story".

Unluckily for her the Daily Prophet was under contract with the Ministry of Magic, which meant every article needed to be pre-approved by the chief editor, namely Mr. Culpepper, before it was written or even planned.

 _Just another reason to enter his good graces_ – she thought.

"I don't believe the redeemed Death Eater tale", was what she said. "Our readers deserve to know the _truth_ ".

Mentally patting herself on the back for the performance, the appeal to the readers being pure genius in her humble opinion, Rita struggled to maintain a stern expression and hide her triumphant smirk when Christian nodded. Just once.

"You have my permission to follow the lead", he stated. "People seem to be particularly interested in this Malfoy guy. Meet the sister and report back to me. We'll see how to proceed from there".

"Thank you, _Christian_ ", she practically purred. "I won't let you down".

That would have been as good a moment as any other to tell him she didn't exactly had a meeting scheduled, but more of an address she planned to be stalking in the upcoming future, but she didn't.

Gracefully raising from her seat and making sure he caught a good glimpse of her long legs, Rita looked at the door behind her and then back at the wizard, biting her lower lip. _Just feeling the ground_.

His reaction wasn't late, and most of all it didn't disappoint her.

"You're welcome to knock on my door again if you need anything".

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor, a room in the west wing – Wiltshire, England;  
October 18th, 2003, around 16:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

"At this point, I don't think there's anything else we can do _officially_ ", Harry lamented, quill scratching furiously on the parchment as he declared _unsolved_ yet another case.

"I'm waiting the mind-healer's report on the transcriptions from Grinder Smith's interrogatories", grunted Anthony from somewhere on his left. "Hopefully it'll help us shed some light on his inexplicable fate".

"It's not as if there's a bloody thing we can do unofficially", Dean added.

Only The-Chosen-One's inner circle of trusted Aurors was currently in the room, and three pair of similarly expecting eyes fell on the last person of their little party of four: Ron.

He shrugged. "Any luck with the Scarlett mobs, Harry?"

It had been little over three weeks since they'd first found out about the existence of the Scarlett Order, and by now they'd all personally read the entire magazine at least two times.

It was a gigantic pile of crap, on that they all agreed, but so far they'd made no progress in finding out who was writing its articles and to whom it was delivered, or getting their hands on a newer issue.

According to Hermione's testimony and the hazy memories they'd gotten from Draco, Harry was almost sure they were behind the attack on the Malfoy heir, if possibly not those to held accountable for the eventful summer the wizarding community was experiencing.

The language they used to address actuality topics was not dissimilar from that of Death Eaters back in the day, only their hatred seemed to be directed at Purebloods.

"I've asked Kingsley to find me an undercover agent to try and infiltrate their ranks, but it's not going to be easy if we don't even know where to place him", Harry sighed, giving a final look to the parchment and writing his signature in the bottom right corner.

"I think we're all conveniently avoiding the boiling cauldron in the room", Ron sniffed, not bothering to look up from his own paperwork. "The magazine was in _our_ locker room".

"Here he comes again", Anthony piped up. "You know we can't investigate our own colleagues without filing an official complaint".

"But we can place Kingsley's guy where the younger Aurors go in their free time", Weasley objected. "I would bet my house it's not one of us four that's been gallivanting with these freaks".

Goldstein was about to protest, and Dean was about to join the conversation by taking his side, but Harry held them back by raising a hand.

"If for some reason such a plot would come to fruition…", he reasoned. "We wouldn't only get insight on this organization, we would also know who shouldn't be allowed to be a part of this department".

They shared a common shiver of disgust.

They couldn't bring themselves to consider there could very well have been an Auror behind the attempted murder aimed at Draco Malfoy.

"It's what I've been trying to tell you for the past two days", complained Ron, who had been proposing this plan for quite some time now.

Harry didn't know why it had taken so much for him to follow his advice, and it hurt in ways he couldn't yet comprehend to realize he didn't trust his oldest friend as he'd so implicitly done before.

"We weren't out of option two days ago", he joked, drily. "As far-fetched as it is, your plan is the best shot we currently have at our disposal".

Anthony chuckled. "Therefore we close another secret meeting with a hole in the water. _Roger_ that, Potter".

Harry forced a smile. "Let's hope five years of peace didn't leave the DMLE completely resourceless".

"Is that everything?", asked Dean, eyeing the clock hanging behind his back. "I have a date and I really don't want to be late for this one".

The-Boy-Who-Lived cleared his throat. "There's one more thing".

Dean Thomas nodded nervously, praying all deities he was aware of that Harry's last request wasn't going to make him late to his date.

"What is it?", Goldstein urged.

" _I'm gonna tell Hermione about the magazine_ ".

"…"

"…"

"Are you _mental_?!"

 _But of course_ , _who could be over-reacting if_ not _Ronald?_ – Harry thought bitterly. _Sometimes he was such a big baby_.

"Look, Ron, we've already talked about this", he said.

"Then you already know why it's a bad idea", the other retorted. "We cannot divulge details of a ongoing investigation to a civil".

"It's _Hermione_ , Ron. _Her-mio-ne_. You know I'd trust her my life", Harry replied.

He checked on Anthony and Dean, finding them reassuringly neutral, as if they didn't care about the matter at hand: truth was they simply trusted him, their captain, to make the right call for the team.

"It's not your life we are talking about, but the bloody Ministry of Magic. You have to realize there are times _even you_ have to stick to the rules", Ron sold his speech with a passion such that he was panting when it ended.

"I won't be sharing any details of the investigation with her", the raven-haired wizard reassured the group. "But I'm still letting her in on this one. This Scarlett Order is the best lead we got, but I'm not sure we're equipped with the right kind of resources to track them down".

"As you wish, _Potter_ ", the other practically spat before storming out of the room and officially ending their argument. "Go ask Hermione for money and watch her do things her way. It went _just peachy_ with Grinder Smith".

What followed was just overwhelming and awkward silence.

It didn't take long before the three bid their goodbyes and left the room, Anthony and Dean stopping by the Ministry before the end of their shifts as Harry begun to prepare for his very long one.

* * *

 ** _(Victoria Street n. 23, The Penthouse – Wizville, London, England;  
October 18th, 2003, around 21:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

Upon asking his best friend to meet so they could talk about recent developments, Harry had been invited for dinner at Hermione's house.

He showed up one minute early on the clock, having apparated at the northeast entrance of the neighbourhood way before he was due.

The walk from Breedlove Park to Victoria Street was short and sweet, with only the mildly cold air of mid October to keep him company.

Pansy was busy with her shop tonight, something about checking on the insurance papers, and Ron had downright refused to come.

He'd tried _once_ more, over lunch, to dissuade him from telling Hermione what they had found out about the Scarlett Post and the mysterious organization behind it, but Harry was quite confident in his choice.

If there was someone capable of helping them, that was the bloody _brightest witch of her age_.

Who apparently managed to be late even when she didn't need to leave her own home.

He waited patiently for a couple of minutes before the entrance door finally slammed open, and Hermione peeked from the threshold.

"Hi, Harry", she greeted, startling him with her happy smile and a hug.

Not that he was going to complain about it, but what could possibly be making her so cheerful in such miserable times?

He found the answer to his question five minutes later, when he followed the witch into her kitchen after dropping his coat by the hanger in the hallway. There sat, completely empty, two bottles of wine with a matching number of glasses.

"Pansy stopped by for the _happy hour_ ", Hermione rolled her eyes when she noticed what he was looking at. "She helped me make the pizza we'll be eating for dinner". She tapped her hand on the exterior surface of the oven for good measure, where a half a meter long pizza was currently cooking.

"Looks good", he conceded, surpassing her to get to the counter above the sink and taking two clean glasses. "I'm going to take advantage of your personal bar. I'll be gone five minutes tops. Does a _Bamboo_ sound good to you?"

"Sounds great", Hermione chuckled, fidgeting with her kitchen gloves until she managed to put them on and open the oven to check on their dinner.

Loyal to his promise, four minutes later The-Chosen-One was returning to the room with the cocktails he'd prepared in his hands as his best friend was taking the pan out of it.

Harry helped her slice it up, and the two made small-talk until they were sitting in identical bar stools behind the counter.

"Will you be coming to Ginny's first game of the year?", the witch asked out of the blue. "I think she said she's playing against _Puddlemere United_ , but I wouldn't bet my life on it".

"She's up against the _Tornados_ ", he corrected. "But yeah, I'll definitely be going unless something comes up with work".

His voice came out bitter than he'd intended in the last part.

"How is it going?", Hermione asked, though by her expression he could tell she was quite aware of the _nowhere_ the investigation was going. "Did anything come up with Smith?"

They shuddered at their shared memory.

They'd both been there when his only suspect had managed to harm Hermione and steal Ronald's wand inside a Ministry's interrogation room, killing himself in the process.

And yet he'd always thought everybody knew not to aim the killing curse to an advanced protective shield.

 _Everyone knew it would bounce back_.

"Anthony finally got the psychological evaluation from the mind-healer, but he only confirmed what we already knew. There was a dramatic shift between his last interrogatory and the ones before", Harry replied, sternly.

"What you mean is that _I was the trigger_ ", she objected.

He nodded. There was no point in denying that.

"I believe that I know, at least partially, why he hated you so much".

"Besides from my punching him at the Three Broomsticks a couple months ago?", she asked. "Humour me, then".

Harry sighed. "We have reason to believe it's something called _The Scarlett Order_ to be behind the attack on Draco".

He analysed her reaction very carefully.

No change in her expression occurred when he gave her the name of the organization, but one mention of Malfoy and her entire body stiffened, blind rage taking over her features, her drunken-induced cheerfulness now forgotten.

"What the _fuck_ is The Scarlett Order now?"

So he told her everything he'd discovered about them, starting from Ron finding the magazine in their locker room and ending up handing to her his personal copy of it, which he'd produced with his wand.

Hermione skimmed through the index.

"Where did they even find enough material to write fifteen pages about Theo and I?", she furrowed her brows. " _Who_ are these people, Harry?"

"I really wish I knew", he said. "I really was hoping _you_ could help me with that. I tried everything I could through the _proper_ channels, but I'm still empty-handed. They don't have a publishing house, the articles are all anonymous and the magazine it's not sold in shops. There must be some secret subscription list that only the authors have access to".

The Gryffindor witch glanced up from the _Post_ to look at her best friend firmly in the eyes.

"One thing is to read a newspaper, another is to come together and deliberately make an attempt at someone's life", she reasoned. "I don't think the paper answers the _why_ , I believe it answers the _how._ This is pure _propaganda_ ", she raised the magazine and shook it in front of his face. "The sentiment they express is brought to the extreme, but what they're preaching you can find it in an increasingly large part of the wizarding population. _Pureblood is the new muggle_ , Harry. I think they're simply using the paper to find acolytes who aren't afraid to get blood on their hands".

"This is unacceptable", the wizard protested. "The Purebloods who wronged the community have been long put to rest or locked up in Azkaban. It's not up to them – he gestured at the _Post_ – to decide what's right and what's wrong".

"Yet there was still a protest outside the Ministry the day Lucius Malfoy was released", Hermione retorted, taking a generous sip of her _Bamboo_ cocktail. "And what to say of the way the Daily Prophet is currently sharing the news? Why the Ministry didn't say anything when they published a picture of a child without asking for a parent's permission? The same child whose house was set on fire just last month".

"Kingsley's doing the best he can", he instinctively defended the Minister.

It was easy for her to talk, having missed the last five years of English wizarding politics.

To say the situation was _fragile_ was an understatement.

"But there's a large part of the Wizengamot that doesn't approve of his post-war choices. You were by his side when he refused to execute Death Eaters in mass".

It hadn't been long before Hermione had left for Australia.

The Minister had given unlimited resources to the apprehension of Voldemort's followers who had managed to escape after the Battle of Hogwarts, and before the end of June most of them had been captured.

Nobody had expected the public opinion to ask for death sentences, but luckily the newly appointed Ministry of Magic had put his foot down on the matter.

She hadn't realized he still needed to politically recover form the move.

"Tell me it's _not_ discrimination when the Wizengamot passes new taxation laws whose only parameter is your blood status", she insisted. "I'm lucky I pay mine in Australia. Did you know Pansy will barely manage to close the year evenly? And that is if her sales go up the roof".

"I can't tell you that", he replied with honesty. "And no, she didn't tell me that, though I noticed she's being a little too worried about her shop compared to the things she's shared with me. Look, Hermione, will you help me or not?"

"I have a guy in Knockturn Alley that I can send around to ask some questions", she stated, simply, as if _having a guy ready in Knockturn Alley_ of all places was the most normal thing in the world (even the wizarding one). "But I don't think there's much else I can do until the only link we have is the fact these psychos are named the Scarlett Order and those who attacked Draco were wearing red capes".

Harry nodded his agreement.

He hated not being able to do more, but with the evidence currently in his possession all roads were temporarily closed to him.

He'd never felt so hopeless in his job as an Auror before, but now wasn't the time to dwell on such thoughts.

He'd come here to ask for Hermione's help, that was much true, but he was also here because he genuinely wanted to spend some quality time with his friend.

She'd been walking English soil for months now and they still had very little occasions to rekindle their old friendship.

It sucked.

He decided to test a theory he had.

Harry smirked. "I couldn't help but notice it's _Draco_ now".

Hermione stopped with her cocktail in mid-air, mockingly arching one brow. "I couldn't help but notice it's _Draco_ for you, too", she teased. "He's Theodore's best friend. Besides, it's not _all_ that bad".

His smirk grew wider.

" _Of course_. I mean, I'm sure there's plenty to appreciate in him for the female eye", he said, suggestively.

The witch emptied her glass in one sitting, and he followed shortly after.

She stuck her tongue out at him. "Ow, _sod it_!", she cursed. "I knew Pansy would tell you".

" _Actually_ ", Harry grinned. "Pansy didn't tell me shit. _You just did_ ".

At this point Hermione rose from her seat and grabbed him by one arm, dragging him back to the living room, where she immediately started fixing two more _Bamboo_ s.

The pizzas lied cold, and almost untouched, in their dishes above the kitchen's counter as the two friends spent their evening cherishing each other's company.

When Harry left the Penthouse two hours later, eager to drop by Pansy's shop to see if she was working late again, he was utterly and embarrassingly drunk.

 _But his hearth was a little less heavy_.

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor, a room in the west wing – Wiltshire, England;  
October 19th, 2003, around 01:45 a.m.)_**

* * *

Magnus had seen them disappearing behind the anonymous wooden door way too many times, Potter's team and his captain, Ronald _fucking_ Weasley, not to find the circumstance odd.

He'd been keeping a close eye on them lately, just as he'd been instructed, but before reporting back to the Order's leaders he wanted to see if there was more he could discover.

Perhaps something big enough to finally give him the edge he needed and gain their trust.

He'd been showered with praise after his little stunt with Grinder Smith, complimented for his quick thinking and for keeping the DMLE from finding out about the Scarlett Order and their mission, and he'd never felt better in his life.

 _Finally_ , he was dealing with people who understood him, wizards who realized the unfairness of the _status quo_ and warriors who were ready to get their hands bloody if it meant to change the world for the better.

Letting them down wasn't an option but making them proud had become the Ravenclaw's mission.

There was only a problem: Harry Potter had suddenly decided to be a cautious person and seemed to be leaving nothing to fate anymore.

Which is why he was still looking at the pretentious door, all manually carved and refined with gold, instead of being inside the room, flipping through the secret files he was sure were being kept there.

Even the other Aurors who weren't part of The-Chosen-One's trusted inner circle had started to notice there was something he wasn't telling them.

He left off with only Weasley and sometimes Goldstein and Thomas way too often, but if they had realized something weird was going on, Magnus was already one step ahead of them: he knew in what room they held their secret meetings.

He'd waited for the end of Potter's shift, waited for Dean and Anthony to occupy their position and snuck out of his own at the owlery to reach the second floor.

 _Piece of cake_.

However, despite trying every unlocking spell in the book two times, the wizard was having no luck in opening the door, and when a female laughter echoed in the hallway he was forced to seek shelter in an alcove behind some Slytherin-coloured wall tapestry.

Footsteps were approaching his hiding spot, and Magnus hoped his Disillusionment Charm was holding up as strongly as it usually did.

He couldn't see who was casually strolling around Malfoy Manor's hallways so early in the morning, but from their voices he deducted it was a man ushering a woman towards his bedroom and asking her not to be loud.

A muffled voice reached his ears from behind the tapestry.

"I'm sorry I showed up without warning", she was apologizing. "I needed to see you".

He couldn't associate the voice to a face, but from the way she articulated some letters and extended other sounds, the woman sounded sloshed.

"It's okay", the man replied, and he was close enough for the Auror to finally recognize him. "You know you're always welcome here. Just try not to wake up my parents, we're almost past their wing".

 _Draco Malfoy_.

Magnus hated the sodding _bastard_.

He was the perfect example of the wrongness of privilege, not to mention a former Death Eater.

The couple stopped abruptly on their tracks, and he paled, fearing his position had been compromised.

 _How was he going to explain that?_

The sucking noises that followed calmed his racing hearth.

 _But of course_ the spoiled brat even had some woman to keep his bed warm at night.

She had to be nothing close to special if she was wasting her time with such an overrated idiot.

Just a _Death Eater whore_.

The wizard waited patiently as their making out session came to an end, and quickly came out of this alcove when he was sure they were far gone.

He walked the distance between himself and the owlery, checking no one had noticed his absence, then took the hallway on the opposite side from the one that had taken him to the west wing.

It was the quickest way to get to the gardens and from there to the nearest apparition point, and he was already late.

He surely hadn't planned for the Manor's inhabitants to be still awake while he _explored_.

When he was finally outside of Malfoy property and the temporary anti-apparition shield placed by the Ministry, Magnus scanned his surroundings once more.

No one was around, so he went ahead and turned on the spot, disapparating with a loud _crack_.

The wizard landed on a secondary street of Knockturn Alley, not far from Asmoudeus' Pub, in whose basement the Scarlett Order meetings generally took place.

Today, however, his destination was The Whyte Wyvern, on the far left corner of the main road, and after a rapid glance at the pub's decadent door, which he liked way more than the stupid one in Malfoy Manor, he set out to reach it in as little time as possible.

What waited for him in the lobby was an unexpected party of two.

Blake Gastrell and Christian Culpepper sat comfortably on the best accommodation the tavern could provide, but Maxwell Edevane, the main behind the very idea that had started the Order, was nowhere to be seen.

The two men greeted him just as excitedly as they had when he'd told them about Grinder Smith's fate one week prior.

Especially Gastrell.

"Vanessa! Bring our friend here some _Odgen's finest_ , please", he shouted at the waitress.

Magnus wasn't exactly in the mood for a drink, but he knew better than to refuse their display of comradery.

These were the people he aimed to impress, after all.

Mr. Edevane picked that moment to came down the stairs and join the table.

His shirt was wrinkled and his hair were ruffled, but the smug smirk on his lips suggested it was best not to question him about it.

"I hope I didn't miss the good stuff", he said, amicably. "What news do you have for us today, Mr. Loughty?"

Magnus decided to start off with the good ones.

"Potter's running in circles. He has no idea who's behind Malfoy's attack, or what happened exactly to Grinder Smith. The poor lad is carrying his death on his conscience".

A common laugh followed.

"Anything yet that suggests a breach in the Manor's security?", Blake asked him. Then, to the others: "Perhaps we should reconsider our target, gentlemen".

"Draco Malfoy is still the best option", Maxwell waved him off. "As much as I'd like to go after some other Pureblood heir, he's the best shot we have. His death wouldn't only outrage Voldemort's oldest followers, but also a decent part of the other side. He's turned his feathers, or at least that's the story he's been trying to sell".

"I can second that", intervened Christian. "Despite the many attempts of the press to destroy his reputation, there are still people in the high spheres that believe he has changed for the better. Just to name one, the Minister of Magic himself".

"Besides, I'm not so sure what little is left of Death Eaters will care about a traitor", Blake noted. "We still don't know who set the Manor on fire last month".

"I don't believe he's changed for one second", Magnus muttered through gritted teeth. "He was one year ahead of me in Hogwarts, but it doesn't mean I didn't get to experience who he truly was. He's rotten to the core".

The three men exchanged a look he couldn't ignore before Mr. Culpepper smiled affably in his direction.

"Keep looking for that flaw in the security, Loughty. You're doing a great job", he praised. "I have a reporter that's dead set on ruining him. Mr. Malfoy will have some terrible final days".

Magnus perked up just a little. "I'm glad to hear that", he replied, raising his glass for a toast.

Four of them clanked together.

"Meanwhile I'll try to find out what Potter has been hiding from the Aurors in the lower positions. I think I know what room he's been having his secret meetings into, but the locking spells are so tight I didn't manage to get in".

He'd said he would discover what The-Chosen-One was hiding at the end of their last private meeting, too, and he was extremely mad at himself for not keeping up with that promise.

"If he's trying to hide something from people who went through his same training…", Mr. Edevane trailed off, suggestively. "Perhaps you might want to consider finding your answers somewhere else".

His dark brown eyes casually roamed about the lobby, pausing from time to time on some very sinister characters.

Magnus followed his trail of sight.

 _Dark Magic_ it was, then. _It was all for a greater good_.


	32. PRESS

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

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 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

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This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**. You can also find me as **slytherinsauce** on both **tumblr** and **pinterest** with more content dedicated to this story.

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 **Author's notes** : hello! Down below is a new chapter for you to read, which I really hope you will enjoy. Something that's been known to me since day one comes to light now, and I'm really curious to see what you guys think of it (or if you had thought about this happening). Without further ado, I'll leave you to it! I'm thinking of squeezing another update in before Christmas, but in case I don't I hope you'll have wonderful holidays wherever you are and whatever you're going to do.

* * *

 **32.**

 **PRESS**

 **.**

" _they throwin' shade 'cause they see me on top_  
 _tell that bitch to pull up, I'ma send you the drop_  
 _press, press, press, press, press_  
 _cardi don't need more press_  
 _kill 'em all, put them hoes to rest_  
 _walk in, bulletproof vest_

 _(…) ding dong_  
 _must be that whip that I ordered_ "

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor: grand dining room – Wiltshire, England;  
October 21st, 2003, around 20:10 p.m.)_**

* * *

Lucius, Narcissa and their granddaughter were missing the weekly dinner the Nott twins usually ate in their home.

Draco had sold Theo some excuse about the pair going to the opera, but Hermione knew he simply wanted to confront him about what she'd recently shared with her brother without his own parents being present.

If only she'd had had a single instant alone with him, the witch would have probably thanked him for the gesture: she wasn't sure she was ready for the older Malfoys to know about her involvement with Draco, though she imagined Narcissa to have her fair share of suspects by now.

It was better to keep them in the dark for a little longer.

One thing was Pansy and Theo, or even Harry, knowing about their liaison, and another was the couple who'd brought the man she was shagging into this world.

"Don't be so jumpy, Malfoy", she tried to dissipate the tension, gesturing at her brother. "I told you he was _cool_ with it".

The three of them were sitting at opposite sides of the gigantic table, very far from one another, and Draco looked as if he'd swallowed a toad.

"If you're talking about your _relationship_ then yes, I'm very cool with it", Theo chirped. "However, I don't appreciate being kept in the dark as if I'm some child who's gonna throw a fit".

At that he eyed his blond friend quite blatantly.

She guessed it was about the talk they'd had had in Nott Manor which she wasn't supposed to have eavesdropped, and stepped back from the conversation so that they could talk things through, focusing her attention on the telephone in her hands, instead.

She had a new message and two unanswered calls. Three days after giving the order, her guy in Knockturn Alley finally had something for her.

He claimed to have found some thrown out copies of the newspaper she'd mentioned and asked where they could meet so that he could hand them over. Quickly narrowing down her options to the following morning, Hermione sent him a short reply with a time and a place before locking the screen and putting her phone down, on one side of her still empty plate.

Draco and Theo seemed to be making their peace.

"…I felt bad keeping it from you, but I would have felt _worse_ if she broke up with me just because I told you", the former was apologizing.

The latter waved him off. "It's okay, mate. Just don't make it this bloody complicated the next time".

Draco winked at her. "The whole point of not screwing this up is that I'm hoping there _won't_ be a next time".

His line came out cheesier than he'd probably intended, but Hermione's heart started racing anyway.

She didn't care if she looked dumb.

She wanted to smile at the amazingly peculiar man who'd been sweeping her off her feet for quite some time now, so that's precisely what she did.

Their dove-eyes stare off was interrupted by her brother.

" _EW_!", he exclaimed, though he sounded amused rather than bothered. " _Too soon!_ "

Hermione moved her gaze from Draco's face, and she flashed Theo a smile that was too sweet to be even remotely authentic.

" _But how, my darling brother, didn't you just say you're not a child_?"

Then she blew Malfoy a kiss, making sure her expression was as sappy as it possibly could, to which her sibling replied by covering his eyes.

"Very mature, mate", the blond smirked.

"Well, would you cut me some slack here, Draco", Theo protested. "I missed the stage of her life where boys started hitting on her and I jumped in to preserve her honour".

The witch narrowed her brows, but before she could intervene and set the record straight ( _I could defend my honour alone very well, thank you very much_ ) a loud "Pop!" echoed through the room and their plates were magically filled with slices of honey glazed duck.

It was one of her brother's favourites dishes, and a staple of Saturday dinners here at the Manor.

Hermione liked it very much too, besides she didn't have lunch today and she was _starving_ , so she threw herself into her meal, temporarily disregarding the conversation still unfolding at the table.

"Yeah, sure. 'Cause I can totally picture a fourteen year old you going after Victor Krum with the purpose of kicking his ass", Draco chuckled.

Theo seemed torn between laughing along and get offended, so he just elegantly flipped him off before turning his attention to the plate in front of him. His fork was almost touching the delicate glaze when he looked up again with a pensive face.

"You're right. I can't picture fourteen year old me doing that, either. I think it was my best moment from fourth year was when he accidentally _photobombed_ us", he said, referring to the tradition Pansy had forced upon her group of friends back then, which consisted of taking a picture of the entire Slytherin class of 1991 the last day of school every year.

In 1994 a world famous Quidditch player had happened to walk by at the right time, and his presence in the picture, with his surprised and distorted face, had really been the highlight of an otherwise dull and depressing year at Hogwarts for Theodore.

"I bet you still have it", Draco said.

Having sedated the chasm in her stomach, Hermione's attention returned to the two wizards, who still had to touch their plates while hers was already empty.

"I'd love to see that picture", she chimed in.

"You can bet your _ass_ I still have it".

* * *

 ** _(Nott Manor: tea room – somewhere in Dorset, England;_**  
 ** _October 21st, 2003, around 23:00 p.m.)_**

* * *

Nobody could have predicted the path that evening was destined to take.

The odds ( _statistics_ even) were absolutely in the favour of a pleasurable experience coming out of their gathering – three people who cared about each other wining and dining and talking about _whatever_ – yet good old Ms. Luck seemed to have other plans.

A harmless and light-hearted conversation had opened Pandora's vase, and what had happened, unluckily, couldn't be undone.

It wasn't long after supper when the trio decided to move the party from one ancestral home to another, and it was roughly nine p.m. when they landed on the white marble of the main parlour, some more swiftly than others.

They came to Nott Manor to retrieve the infamous picture of Victor Krum photobombing Theo and the others, but more than half an hour passed before any of them remembered it. It was Hermione.

Theo left the room with the bottle of _Dragon Barrel Brandy_ they'd been drinking held tightly in his hand, shouting his promise to return soon with the photo on his way out, while Draco and Hermione managed to smuggle a good five minutes make-out session on the sofa.

The only reason the blond Slytherin was there could be found in the substantial amount of wine he'd already downed over dinner, which seemed to have miraculously sped up his recovery process, but she was grateful for the one-on-one time nonetheless, no matter how scarce.

It hadn't been since he'd woken up and the two of them had talked in his hospital room that they'd had some actual time for themselves, and she was starting to miss him.

More and more often she thought about the day she was supposed to return to Australia, if not permanently at least more often and for longer periods of time, but since it crashed her heart every time, once more Hermione decided to post-pone the issue.

She kissed him harder. "I'm so glad you're getting better", she confessed out of the blue, giving Draco only the time to smile at her before her lips crushed on his again.

By this point her crotch area was grinding on his, and under normal circumstances it wouldn't have taken much else for the couple to bring things to the next level; unluckily for them, though, Theo was probably on his way back to the room with the infamous picture.

Punctual as a clock, her brother returned less than a minute later and with a huge, black box he needed both hands to hold up.

"I couldn't remember in which album it was", he hiccupped, and only now Hermione noted how the _Dragon Barrel Brandy_ dangerously struggled to keep balance on its surface. "So I took them all. Well, mine at least", he shrugged. "I locked everything else in the dungeons. _Well_ , everything that belonged to _him_ ".

With unsuspected dexterity the dark-haired wizard managed to set the box down on the coffee-table, and then, as if he didn't have a single care in the world, he sat on the sofa, not too far from where she was still _on top_ of his best friend.

Theo cleared his throat and smirked. "Whenever you guys are ready".

She made a mental note for the future: her brother was a lot more amicable and overall accepting when he was drunk; next time she had to deliver bad news, she was going to make sure he had a glass of something heavy in his hands.

Climbing down from Draco's lap, whose cheeks were prettily flushed though she couldn't tell if it was the alcohol or it had been her, she took ownership of the portion of cushion between the two Slytherins, and quickly opened the box.

Before she could do anything, Theo snatched the albums lying at the top and set them aside. "Those are from way before Hogwarts", he explained, indicating four thick envelopes. "It has to be in one of the others. You'll probably recognize it because at the time I gave it its own _bloody_ page".

As an adult man he seemed embarrassed of the way he'd been such a _fangirl_ about Krum back in the day, so Hermione couldn't pass on the opportunity of twisting the knife in the wound.

"If only I had known how much you loved him, I would have told him to take _you_ to Yule", she teased.

" _A true Cinderella story_ ", Draco piped up.

She eyed him suspiciously. "I can't see you as the Cinderella type".

He shrugged. "Adhara loves that _crap_ ".

"Are you two lovebirds gonna help me or not?", Theo interrupted the exchange. He'd already gone through one of the less voluminous albums.

They set out to work in friendly silence, but none of them got lucky at first try. Or the second.

Besides from the occasional comment about one embarrassing picture or the other they were proceeding rather quickly, and it wasn't long before the box was halfway empty.

Theo very seriously declared it was time for a break and poured three fresh glasses from his trusted bottle of _Dragon Barrel Brandy_.

Hermione finished hers completely before opening her third photo album. The cover on this one was a charming light blue, and it opened its sequence with a picture of a beautiful infant Theo smiling at the camera.

Instantly realizing that the picture she was looking for couldn't be here she was about to put the album down and discard it for later view, but one more glance at the picture compelled her to turn the page.

Again. And again. And again.

Then it happened. Her eyes fell on an extremely familiar face.

Why the fuck had been her _muggle piano teacher_ invited to Theodore's first birthday, and why had he been the one cradling the birthday boy?

She turned another page.

What was Mr. Boyer doing in Nott Manor, acting as if he owned the place?

" _Oh shit_ ".

She must have spoken rather than thought, because instantly she felt crowded.

"Is everything okay?" Theo. "Oh. _Oh_ ".

"What's up, Granger, have you seen a _ghost?_ " This was Draco.

" _How appropriate of you to phrase it like that_ ".

* * *

Hermione had always known truth could be a bitter pill to swallow, and her experience supported the theory, but the one she was facing right now still managed to play quite a number on her.

It seemed like it was inevitable for people she trusted to let her down.

"I can't _fucking_ believe it!", growled Theo, fuming. "I knew he was a massive jerk but this… _THIS_ goes beyond every _fucking_ limit".

She could second that. The same rage and disappointment ran through her veins, too, only in her case it took the shape of icy cold silence.

The last words she'd spoken had been among the hardest of her entire life, and she was regretting them immensely: she could ignore a thought, but not a statement, and especially not one like that.

 _ **I've met him**._

Her encounter with Cantankerus Nott, however, hadn't been a touch-and-run deal like the one with his wife Anastasia: the latter had simply showed her face once, spoke mysterious riddles she wouldn't have thought about for many years to come and disappeared in the very depths of her memory.

Her husband was a different matter.

If the deceased wizard really was also Brennan Boyer, the man who'd given her piano lessons for years, and indeed he was, then he'd had an influence on a very young and very impressionable Hermione that was anything but lightweight.

He'd helped shaping the person she was today, he'd given her advice about things she hadn't had the courage to discuss with William and Jane.

She was feeling _sick_.

A detail in Cantankerus' letter popped back into her mind. Something apparently trivial, but that she now knew to have had a very precise meaning.

" _Where do you keep his painting?_ "

Chances Theodore had burnt it were extremely high, and she wouldn't have blamed him if he did.

* * *

 ** _(Nott Manor: the dungeons – somewhere in Dorset, England;  
October 21st, 2003, around 23:45 p.m.)_**

* * *

It turned out their father's portrait had managed to survive the bonfire made of his possessions which his son had lit up as his first formal act as Lord of Nott Manor.

Theo had removed the canvas from its spot on one wall of the man's personal study, the one behind the giant desk, and after dropping him in the dungeons he'd slowly but surely proceeded to gradually forget all about its existence.

The fact he hadn't had enough balls to burn the last trace of his father from the face of the earth didn't mean he was ever going to be ready to confront him.

However, his sister didn't seem to share his opinion, and arguing her way through the last half an hour Hermione had convinced him to finally face his fear.

 _Here I come, dad_ – he thought.

Draco was trailing silently behind them, a victim of the circumstances: there wasn't much he could say that could sound even remotely helpful, but at the same time he was forced to stay and see what was about to happen, because there was a distinct possibility either one of the Nott siblings would freak out _epically_ very soon.

"You don't have to come if you don't want to", she said as her right hand touched the handle of the heavy wooden door. "But I really need to do this".

Theo nodded. "It's ok. I guess it'll be easier if we do it together".

The wizard stepped into the dungeons holding the Dragon Barrel Brandy as a weapon, but no one said a word about it.

* * *

Nine-hundred-and-fifty-two days of eternity had been more than enough for Cantankerus Nott to make up his mind and realize he absolutely despised it.

Unlike his wife, who was taking a nap in the canvas next to his own, her beauty expertly captured by the fingers who'd painted her, those at the perimeter of his left hand, the late head of house Nott was not a quiet soul.

He hadn't said a word when Theo had finally returned to the Manor after the war and removed him from the wall, nor he'd given any sign of being a wizarding painting in the first place: for all his son knew, Cantankerus' self-portrait could not answer if asked a question.

He'd stood still and watched him consume himself over his last letter, demanding repeatedly he'd tell him where to find his sister, and very soon his son had stopped coming.

Anastasia had stayed by his side through all of it. Given a choice, she'd decided to remain with her apparently motionless husband and spend the beginning of her eternal rest in the Manor's dungeons, depriving herself of the company of her very son.

Theodore had been categoric: she'd asked her to choose between himself and his father, and oddly enough she'd said goodbye to her child.

His wife still refused to tell him why.

It seemed tonight was as good a time as ever to find out.

Steps echoed from a distance before the handle was turned and the door opened for the first time in two years.

The first thing he heard was Theo's voice, which sounded more mature than he remembered. "I know you want answers, Hermione, but I'm afraid that pleasure is not available to us. The man painted himself a muggle portrait".

He was followed by a feminine sigh and a patronizing tone he'd long ago stopped hoping to hear ever again. "There's no way such a narcissist would miss the opportunity to haunt this world from his grave".

The one about to come was a now or never type of moment, and Cantankerus threw himself right in the middle of it with his old aplomb.

"I'm afraid your sister's right on this one, son".

He'd waited for them to come closer and now that he could finally take a look at them, after years of imagining whom they were destined to become, it didn't matter that they both hated him and that this first time was probably going to turn into the last and only one.

Just seeing them side by side, in a way his foolish and youthful mistakes had never allowed, filled the late Lord Nott's heart with invaluable joy.

His daughter hissed. " ** _You_** ".

The hatred in her eyes Cantankerus had seen it before in Theo's, and to some extent in Anastasia's ever since they'd been reunited in painting form after his death.

He tried to ignore her reproachful look, or the way it hit right where it hurt the most, but his son had a faster reaction.

"I can't believe you did this to her", he accused. Only now did the dead wizard realize there was a third person in the dungeons, and briefly he wondered what Lucius' son could be doing in his house at such a late hour. "You were always the worst kind of father a child could have, but after everything you put our family through, I always thought that it was losing your daughter that broke you. I never suspected you were rotten inside to begin with".

Theo made a pause, taking the time to let his words sink.

 _He was always so dramatic_.

"She was right there!", the current Lord of the Manor shouted. "The entire time! I thought she was dead… I thought- I thought I had killed her. _But she was right there!_ ", he repeated, his voice dropping an octave.

His face was red, and a vein ran through the otherwise silky surface of his neck. In his right hand he brandished a bottle his father immediately recognized, with which, gesticulating, he cleaved the air up, down, right and left.

"I did what was best for her", Cantankerus said.

It was probably the one-hundredth time he'd repeated himself that _just today_. Truth was that year after year, as Eloise grew up far away from home and he'd seen his family falling apart, it had become more and more difficult to convince himself that he had, indeed, made the right call on that fateful night, more than twenty years ago.

Regrets were an awful thing to carry on one's shoulders, and the wizard had many of them, some heavier than others.

"It's my prerogative to be the judge of that", Hermione chimed in. "And no, _sir_ , you did _not_. But that's not why I'm here".

Her father heard her, and deliberately decided to ignore her: there were so many things he wanted to know and, he suspected, very little time to get his questions rolling.

" _Eloise_ ", he called. "I'm very happy to see you".

"The feeling's obviously not mutual", she replied, her face a mask of indifference.

If over the years he hadn't grown to know her as well as he did, Cantankerus would have thought she couldn't care less about the little reunion.

On his left side, Anastasia began to stir.

"Cantankerus? What's going on?", his wife asked, opening her eyes and slowly metabolizing the scene unfolding in front of her.

She had given up hope so long ago, and before she could realize it was her children who'd came to the dungeon, Anastasia Nott had started crying.

" _Mum_ ".

Tears were piling up in the corners of Theo's eyes, too.

" _My boy_ …", she trailed off, uncertainly, as her gaze turned to Eloise. "He found you".

There was a happiness in her voice which her husband had all but forgotten, and it rekindled the flame in his heart, hearing again such a sound after so many years of cold stares and silence.

At last, his family was reunited.

Only its members seemed to be rolling for two opposite teams, and his own, he feared, was made of a single person: himself.

"I call bullshit", Hermione said. "Really, I don't have time for this".

"Hermione!", Cantankerus scolded in the same way he used to when rehearsing at the piano she'd miss a note just before the end of an otherwise perfectly executed piece. "Control yourself, for the love of Merlin".

She pretended not to hear him. "Coming to see you was going to be my last resort, but discovering I was _trolled_ by the only adult in my childhood of whom I still had a good opinion accelerated the process", she confessed. "I only have one question for you. Can you think of anyone who had a personal _vendetta_ against you or this family?"

"That's a very specific question", he replied. "Care to elaborate on what's happening?"

"Honestly, I do not. Just answer the _bloody_ question".

Cantankerus pondered his options: on one hand he could carry the conversation his way and risk for it to end immediately, while on the other he could go along with whatever she wanted and buy himself some time.

He decided for the latter.

"When I died many people were still holding grudges. I'm afraid it'll take me some time to put all the names together", he confessed.

"Make your list, I'll send someone to write it down two days from now. _Have a lovely night_ ".

And with that Hermione turned their back on the paintings, whispering something in her brother's ear before marching to the back of the room, where he grabbed the young and still silent Malfoy scion by the arm.

"It was, _umh- Goodbye_ , Mr. Nott", Draco jabbered. "Nice to see you, Mrs. Nott", he greeted Anastasia, whose tears seemed to be diminishing. "I'll call you tomorrow, mate", he said to Theo.

Cantankerus' eyes focused on their intertwined hands as he watched them leave the room. He turned them to his son, reproachfully.

"How long have they been seeing each other?"

Theodore took his sweet time to reply. "Very soon after I was finally reunited with my sister", he supplied. "And that would be right before the beginning of summer. _This year_. With no thanks to you, of course".

Nott Senior couldn't believe his ears.

"Two years? It took two years?", he boomed. "I am very disappointed in you, son".

"Cantankerus", growled Anastasia in warning.

Theo waved her off. "I'm sorry but _I don't give a fuck_ ", he replied, suavely, looking his father straight in the eyes. No trace was left on his face of the tears he'd just shed. "Yes, it took me two years to finally get a hold of her and it was only a lucky guess. Right after the war she went to Australia. She lived there for five years".

His mother brought her hands to her mouth. " _What have we done_?"

"You royally fucked up the lives of not one but two of your children", their son answered, even though he wasn't supposed to have heard the question in the first place. "And you knew it all along", he turned to Anastasia. "How could you know he was so close to her and still let me believe she was _dead_? That she had died so that _I_ could live?"

"Don't speak to your mother like that", Cantankerus reproached, and for a moment he thought of all the times he'd slapped him in the face for not talking appropriately to his mother.

"You don't understand, Theo", Anastasia said, looking a little more determined. "We did everything that was in our power to protect you and your sister. Unluckily, things didn't go as we planned them".

"Luck has nothing to do with what happened to us. He made his choice", he accused, pointing an accusatory finger at Cantankerus, "and you, mum, you stood by his side and not ours".

"You weren't there. You don't know what happened to the people who turned Tom Riddle down", Anastasia murmured, repeating an explanation she'd pronounced many times before, when she was alive.

It was the same her husband had given to her.

"Uncle Euriphides survived both wars by staying neutral, funding the Order of the Phoenix _and_ raising two daughters. Anything along this line is a lie you're telling yourself because you don't want to admit you were wrong".

They didn't know how to argue with _that_.

Theo smashed the Dragon Barrel Brandy bottle on the dungeon's floor and looked down at the many glass pieces on the ground before smirking in his parents' direction.

To Cantankerus he now seemed way more sober than when he'd entered the room.

"Ricochet will be visiting you in two days to collect the list", was Theodore's farewell.

When the door slammed on its hinges, on his left side Anastasia started to cry once more.

Cantankerus wanted to die _again_.

* * *

 ** _(The Leaky Cauldron – Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 24th, 2003, around 17:55 p.m.)_**

* * *

The pub was crowded and didn't smell its best that Tuesday afternoon, filled as it was with Quidditch enthusiasts and Ministry's employees in desperate need of their _happy hour_.

After the Three Broomsticks in Hogsmeade, the Cauldron had decided to make a subscription to MagiTech and stream Quidditch games to attract more customers, and though he couldn't begin to understand the technology behind it, Tom the owner was really glad he'd followed the advice of his youngest waitress, Hannah Abbott, because it had worked splendidly.

Perhaps it had worked too much, or at least that was Hermione's opinion.

The drinks were slow to get to the table, and conversation was almost impossible to carry in the general chaos.

 _Leave it to Zabini to pick up a place_ – she thought.

Her right hand was resting on the bowl of her wine glass, while her attention sporadically shifted from Pansy's wedding planning to Ginny's adventures with the Harpies.

The red-headed had returned from Wales that very morning, and the group was currently waiting for Harry and Ronald to show up after their shift.

They'd agreed on a quick Butterbeer before dinner, but the two Aurors weren't arrived yet and a bottle of wine had been consumed already.

 _Leave it to Pansy and Ginny to be responsible adults_.

Her Mirror rang in the back pocket of her high-waisted mom jeans, and she picked it up to see she'd gotten a text from her brother.

 _Father still refuses to give Rico the list. The bastard said he will only give it to one of us. I'll go get it tonight after my date with Luna._

Hermione quickly typed her reply on the touchscreen and pressed the send button only seconds before a heavy hand squeezed her shoulder.

 _GG. I owe you you, Theo._

Harry and Ron had finally arrived, and while the former greeted his girlfriend with a very open-mouthed and explicit kiss, the latter surprised her by occupying the seat next to him.

"Long time no see", he joked. "How are you doing, Hermione?"

Ronald's kindness was unexpected but welcome, yet it seemed odd.

He hadn't been very welcoming ever since she'd returned, but perhaps he'd worked on his issues and was now ready to turn over a new leaf.

Maybe he was just worried after her last rendezvous at the DMLE.

The death of Grinder Smith was something nobody had managed to wrap his head around. Things didn't add up.

"I haven't slept much tonight, but overall I'd say I'm doing pretty fine for my standards", she replied, over-sharing just so that she could set the foundation of a proper conversation. "How are _you_ doing? How's Lavender?"

"We're both a little unhappy with our jobs lately, but we're managing to cope", Ron said. "Nothing a little trip during the winter holidays won't dissipate".

"Are you planning to celebrate Christmas away?", she asked.

The holidays were a pretty big deal for the Weasleys, and it sounded strange to hear Ron talking about spending them somewhere that wasn't the Burrow.

"I think we need a little time on our own, if you know what I mean".

Surprisingly, even though they had entirely different lives and she'd just recently entered a relationship while Ronald was married, she did.

Reading between the lines of the things he actually said had always been Hermione's specialty when they were younger, but right now she couldn't afford the luxury to pry into his private life, not when they were having the first apparently nice conversation since forever.

He turned away from her just to order himself a FireWhisky.

"Have you decided where to go, yet?", was all she asked when he returned his attention to her.

"I don't know. Somewhere with the sun and a nice beach. Maybe the same place of our honeymoon", he replied.

His face darkened a little as they were both hit by the realization that she didn't know where that had been: _she hadn't gone to his wedding_.

"Sounds like you have a plan", Hermione forced a smile, trying to forget about the other elephant in the room: the torch which, according to Harry and _then_ Ginny, Ron had held for her once upon a time. "Next on my list is Cuba. Or Iceland. I haven't decided yet. But the sun and a beach sound nice".

"Nothing's written in stone yet". His expression lightened up a little when the waitress returned with his drink. "I wouldn't put it past Lavender's new boss to force his employees to work on Christmas, too. That man's a beast".

"I thought she left _WitchWeekly_ because _The Prophet_ was better?"

When she'd bought the paper as a gift for her brother, Lavender had been even faster than Rita Skeeter in consigning her resignation letter.

Back then she'd brushed the information off as irrelevant, but now she realized why things between Ron and her had been so awkward.

"She left because you bought her place of work on a whim. It made her and many others feel as if their jobs were a joke", he said.

Hermione didn't particularly like the patronizing intent behind his words, but for once she decided to ignore it. "That's right. I bought it on a whim. But Theo is doing a great job with it, and the numbers are on his side for now. In any case, I'm sorry I made your wife uncomfortable. I had no idea she worked there".

"That's because you went from being my best friend to knowing nothing about my life", Ron grimaced. "But we can't fix this mess if we don't talk to each other. I guess I'm just tired of being angry at you all the fucking time".

"Not the finest declaration of peace, but I'll take what I can get", she chuckled. Raising her glass to knock on Ron's, she invited him to drink with her, but halfway through her second sip of wine her phone rang again, this time from the table, where the screen lighted up and showed a preview of the message she'd just received.

This time it wasn't from Theo.

 _The doctor said I'm almost fine, but that I'll need to be getting a lot of attention in the next few weeks. Jokes aside, sex's a green light, too. Have fun with your friends, sweet legs. ;)_ _I'll see you tomorrow._

" _Blimey!_ Is that _Malfoy_?"

* * *

Cat was out of the bag and, surprisingly, it felt extremely nice.

For once, Ron had reacted very politely to unwelcome news, and though he clearly wasn't the couple's biggest supporter, he hadn't voiced his disapproval or tried to change her mind.

Presented with a fact, the youngest Weasley son had been considerate and even classy, only grumbling a little while giving Harry the money he'd won by being right about the unexplainable pair falling for each other.

Under normal circumstances she'd have called The-Boy-Who-Lived out for betting on something while having information the opponent ignored, but Hermione really hadn't wanted to ruin a moment that was flowing so smoothly: if there was one thing she knew about Ron, it was that he absolutely hated to be left out; she remembered distinctly the many times in the past where he'd lashed out on them for such a thing, and she really wasn't sure her present self could experiment one of those situations and still be friends with him by the end of it.

Besides, she couldn't be the only one who'd evolved and changed.

Five years was an awful amount of time for not seeing one of your allegedly _best_ friends.

Truth was, without Harry acting as a connection between them, Hermione wasn't sure she would have even talked to him again after their first train ride to Hogwarts.

Anyway, sitting at a table without worrying about a mouth-slip exposing her affair with Draco was nice, and the witch was thoroughly enjoying herself.

The Quidditch game had ended with a smashing victory from the Falmouth Falcons, who'd dominated over the opposite team, the Kenmare Kestrels, whose members had been left with only the option to crawl their way back to Ireland, tail between the legs and all the usual jazz.

They were officially at the end of UK's championship standings.

The match itself hadn't been particularly eventful, just a couple of nice Quaffle passages and a good catch by the Falcons' Keeper.

The English players had won out of sheer luck with the snitch literally jumping in the arms of their seeker, but it was fine with her: the ten Galleons she'd bet with Theo had just turned into a hundred.

On top of that, many people had left the pub the moment the whistle had signalled the end of the game, so the air was much more breathable now.

"Can't wait to see the first _dramione_ fight", said Ron, air-quoting an expression he'd picked up earlier from Pansy.

He seemed quite keen on never letting Hermione hear the end of it.

She rolled her eyes and pouted in Parkinson's general direction, looking for some mercy, but her best friend smirked evilly.

"Harry and I got six months of jokes", she chirped, eyeing her nails with peculiar interest. "It's your turn now".

"And they never stopped for us", Blaise chimed in, indicating himself and Ginevra.

"And they never will if you don't stop selling it as something _casual_ ", Harry countered.

"Not everybody wants to get married before their thirties and stop living", laughed Ginny, sipping on her Butterbeer.

"Whatever", Hermione huffed. "I'll just _Silencio_ you all and be on my merry way".

"You're such a dictator", Harry snorted.

She laughed. "Take it or _die_ as you leave it if I'm such a dictator".

"He'll just cheat his way out of death like he did the last time", Ron added. "And the time before. And the one before that".

It was an old inside joke for the members of the Golden Trio. And also the universe's sign that, perhaps, a world ruled by Voldemort really wasn't meant to be.

Or so they liked to think of it.

" _Expelliarmus_ is a perfectly decent spell", said Ginny. "If you're a first year student".

The-Boy-Who-Lived raised his hands in defeat and looked hopefully at his fiancé. Quite obviously, Pansy didn't budge this time either.

"Or _post-memory-charm_ Gilderoy Lockhart".

"I surrender", he smirked. "It may not be the strongest move in a wizard's arsenal, but it got the job done, didn't it? So bow down and kiss my ass, _bitches_ ".

Ron got up only to have the pleasure to slap him on the back of his neck. "You're drunk, mate".

"Shove it, Weasley. I've just finished a fourteen-hours shift. I have the _right_ and the _duty_ to be high".

"Just don't call people _bitches_ , perhaps", Pansy reprimanded. "That's my thing".

Hannah Abbott, who was working at the Leaky Cauldron as she tried to figure out what to do with her life, chose that moment to return to the table with a couple more drinks laying on top of a silver tray and a check which she gave to Blaise.

Paying her what was owed for the table's bill up until then, and leaving a very generous tip, the wizard invited Ginny to gather her stuff as they were already late for their dinner reservation, and after a quick goodbye the duo left the pub.

The waitress stared at the golden coin in her right hand. "He does know my family's rich, right? Just because we've mixed with Muggles doesn't mean we're poor".

Hermione couldn't stop herself from laughing. _Of course_ someone whose ancestors had been part of the Sacred Twenty-Eight would find a good tip _offensive_.

"I don't think he even knows who you are", Pansy said, her black eyes sending daggers at poor Hannah as she impersonated her overly-protective self.

"He just thought he was helping a young witch out. He probably didn't _recognize_ you", Harry tried to make it better.

"I don't care, guys, really. I was joking", the blonde witch shrugged. Placing the spare Galleon on top of Zabini's coins, she took out her working apron and occupied the chair Ginny had just left vacant next to her brother.

"Let's drink this one out", she proposed. "My shift ended thirty minutes ago, anyway".

* * *

As a former member of Dumbledore's Army, Hannah Abbott had been accustomed to gravitating around the Golden Trio, and the old friendship (or beginning of one) had been easily rekindled.

Especially when Pansy left early to go check on something at her boutique.

Apparently the blonde Hufflepuff witch was finally getting over the end of her relationship with Neville, and was now eager to throw herself back into the dating scene.

"It's not that I'm looking for someone. I just want to, I don't know, put on a nice dress and do something fancy. Unfortunately all my friends are anything but fancy, so that leaves finding myself a date", she was saying. "It breaks your heart two times if the person you're losing isn't just your lover, but your best friend, too".

"It's been six months now", Ron noted. "Can't you just ask him if he'd like to be your friend again? Obviously, I know nothing about the way you two broke up, so I'll just leave it at that, I guess. I believe Neville actually mentioned something, but unfortunately I don't usually pay too much attention to that kind of talk".

"Ron Weasley and feelings, ladies and gentlemen", Harry proposed a toast. "Although I also think you should just talk to him".

"I will give it some thought", Hannah said, though she didn't sound particularly hopeful. "I said some things I'm definitely not proud of. I should at least apologize for that. What comes after that is up to him".

"You were his best friend, too", intervened Hermione who unlike Ron had actually listened to Neville's thoughts on the matter. "If you're truly sorry and apologize for whatever it is that you said, I think he'll be willing to listen to you".

The blonde gave her a small smile. "Enough of that. I didn't join your table to make your evening depressing".

Harry improvised a tune by flapping his fingers on the table. "Let's see. Tomorrow I get my first day of rest in two weeks", he shared in a dreamy voice, but his expression suddenly darkened. "Which I'll spend doing independent research. God, being an Auror _sucks_ ".

"But the paycheck's nice, in case you're considering the idea", added Ron.

"I was before I started working here. You have no idea how many of your lot come here to forget about the world when they leave the Ministry. It doesn't sound like the kind of life I want for myself", Hannah replied. "But I am considering an internship at St. Mungo's on January, just to learn some basics and see how I like healing. I'm still very unsure, though. Besides, for some reason, I really love it here. Tom's a wonderful boss".

"You were good at Arithmancy, weren't you?", asked Hermione. "Maybe you could take an advanced course and start from there. If you become _great_ I may have a job ready for you".

"That's very nice of you, but I can't see myself locked up in a library ever again. Studying with the purpose of a job it's one thing, I don't think I could endure doing it just for heck of it ever again".

"You just haven't found something that really makes you passionate yet", the Gryffindor replied. "And don't force yourself to date if you're not interested. I happen to enjoy a lot of fancy stuff, I could totally do with the company of a woman that's not crazy from time to time".

There was a moment of silence, which Harry broke with his laughter.

"Pansy says, _tell her she's the one who's crazy_ ", he chuckled. "She also adds… Middle finger emoji, middle finger emoji, middle finger emoji".

Hermione abruptly turned in his direction. "How could she…?"

"I texted her", the Boy-Who-Lived supplied. "It feels as good a time as any to remind you that you're the one who gave me this thing and that it would be bad press for you to be seen smashing something you're trying to sell to people".

"I'd never do that", she defended herself as Hannah giggled somewhere on her left. "Besides, I never said I'm not crazy myself. I just meant that sometimes it's very beneficial to cancel some of the craziness out by hanging around someone who's balanced".

"Ginny's going to love this", said Ron, eagerly picking up his own Mirror to send a message to his younger sibling. "She says you have an ungrateful ass. No middle finger from her, though. Just a knife".

"I see now where you're coming from", joked Hannah. "We can totally use each other. I'll be as balanced as you'll want me if you manage to get me out of the house every once in a while".

"Let's start with next week. How would you like coming to the afterparty of my company's launch on the thirty-first?", Hermione asked as she picked up her bag, which had been hanging on one side of the back of her chair and produced the small envelope that contained the invitation for the event.

"That's for the room that will be accessible only to a few trusted guests. We shan't be more than fifty-something people". She handed Hannah the envelope. "Since Neville will be there, and he checked the plus one, feel free to find yourself one as well. I'm afraid I can't be your date for that".

"Thank you, Hermione", the blonde said. "I'll have to ask Tom if he can change my shifts for next week, but a co-worker owes me one, so it shouldn't be a problem".

"I really don't understand what the fuss is all about with this party", Harry sighed. "Pansy is obsessing over her dress. The sequins, the taffeta, the _whatever-the-fuck-that-colour-is-called_. I've seen it so many times I've even learned how to write the name of the designer. She's _Russian_. They have a different alphabet!"

"I just pretend to listen nowadays. It works in most cases. A little nod here, a seemingly opinionated question there, and just a tiny little bit of spirit of observation", Ron joined. "Lavender can talk about make-up for hours. I swear I really tried to keep up with the pace when we first got back together, but that stuff point blank _confuses_ me".

"Not a mighty mind if it gets fooled so easily", Harry mumbled. "To me it's not that it's confusing, mate. It just bores me. Besides, I prefer how she looks naturally".

Hermione laughed at him.

"I'll let you know that Pansy's no make-up makeup look is just beneath twenty-five minutes", she said. "I also know for a fact that you like that dress a lot. Or are you lying to her?"

With that she picked up her phone and showed Harry the screen after opening up her chat with the Slytherin witch.

One thing could be said for sure about Hermione Granger: she did know how to hold a grudge. In other words, she was vengeful.

But not when it mattered the most. Harry was sure of that.

The-Boy-Who-Lived cleared his throat. "I never said I don't like the dress. The dress is great and she looks great in it. I just don't like _talking_ about it".

"Fair enough", Hannah conceded. "But it's best if I go home and take a close look at some shop windows on my way there, before I start talking about dresses too and bore you out of your mind, Harry".

The witch finished her drink and raised from her seat, saying goodbye to the Golden Trio with hugs and kisses on both cheeks.

"It was good to have you at the Cauldron today", she greeted them.

Then she left to retrieve her purse and coat from the staff's room and waved at them with a big smile on her way back out.

Ron was the first to break the silence.

"Why didn't we hang out more with her?"

Harry shrugged and turned to Hermione. "I guess we were too busy to think about normal teenager staff".

"Speak for yourself", the witch corrected him. "I'm merely _antisocial_ ".

* * *

 ** _(The Leaky Cauldron, outside area – Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 24th, 2003, around 20:40 p.m.)_**

* * *

Only by sitting by himself in a crowded bar had he realized just how stupid his plan of action for the day was.

He'd decided to follow the group based on the fact he knew two very important pieces of the chessboard were going to be present at the same time.

With the help of magic, spying on them shouldn't have been this damn hard, but every spell he'd tried had been bounced back in his direction by an invisible _Shield Charm_ of exquisite perfection, and just the cover provided by the many Quidditch fanatics in the room had protected him from disgracefully blowing up his own.

And completely ruin his professional life.

People always made the mistake of underestimating him, and today proved to be no different: the spell had not failed once in protecting them, that much was true, but no one had bothered to check on it even once, meaning his attempts had gone unnoticed.

Which was lucky for him and exposed a welcome weakness in his opponents: despite everything that had happened since the beginning of summer and the way the Scarlett Order was slowly but surely buying its way into society, Harry Potter and his sidekicks behaved as if they were _untouchable_.

It was something that could work in his favour, and the wizard made a mental note so that he could remember to report it later.

His work as what muggles would have called a double-agent occupied so much time it was like he was working full-time jobs, but he was sure that in the end odds were going to be in his favour.

Nonetheless, wearing a hoodie and pretending to be reading a paper for the past three hours had done dreadful things to his nerves, and his no-booze policy had slowly shifted into a _just-one-more-glass-please_ one.

Something finally seemed to be moving when Zabini and the Weasley girl left the pub. Customers were finally either leaving the Leaky Cauldron or retiring to their rooms, and without being noticed he'd managed to snitch a closer table for himself.

He still hadn't been able to magically pry into their conversations, but at least he'd picked up on something with his very Muggle-born ears.

Then the cute waitress had joined them at the table, which had made her all the less desirable in his eyes, and things turned back to plain dull as she poured out her heart for them.

The girl clearly had issues.

He wasn't going to pass up on the opportunity to exploit them.

The last bit of their conversation had been particularly interesting, and surprisingly clear; it offered the Order a chance to do something spectacular.

When the waitress left her seat and went to get her things, the wizard quietly deposited enough Sickles to cover his bill on the table, and rushed to the nearest exit without looking back.

It was close to the wall that connected Diagon Alley to muggle London that Magnus waited for one Hannah Abbott to leave the pub.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm fairly new to this part of the city. Would you mind if I asked where's the closest place that sells something against this horrible heartache I have?"


	33. HIGHEST IN THE ROOM

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**. You can also find me as **slytherinsauce** on both **tumblr** and **pinterest** with more content dedicated to this story.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : Merry Christmas to you all! It's the second one I celebrate here after I first begun publishing my story and the thought is making me kind of emotional, to be honest with you. Never could I convince myself that I had it in me to start something and then stick to it. This random, super fast update is therefore my gift for you to thank you for all the attention, love and overwhelming support I am receiving. I never take it for granted, but it's always very heartwarming and appreciated. I hope you're all having an amazing day! P.s. leave me a review as a Christmas gift, please? :)

* * *

 **33.**

 **HIGHEST IN THE ROOM**

 **.**

* * *

" _hope we make it outta here_  
 _when I'm with you, I feel alive_  
 _you say you love me, don't you lie_  
 _won't cross my heart, don't wanna die (…)_

 _case it's fumes (smoke)_  
 _she fill my mind up with ideas (straight up)_  
 _I'm the highest in the room_ "

* * *

 ** _(The Leaky Cauldron, outside area – Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 24th, 2003, around 09:00 p.m.)_**

* * *

Hannah let out a sigh of relief and moved past the Leaky Cauldron's old entrance as a little smile played on her lips.

It was, perhaps, the first time since she'd broken up with Neville that she felt so lifted in the spirits: the initial phase of anger and sorrow had been followed by a lonely sadness that had left her catatonic for months, from which she'd escaped just by throwing herself in her new job at the pub and with the help of her friends from school.

But tonight, tonight she had had fun without trying too hard, without imposing herself to be in the company of other people just because she needed to.

It was like the floating bubble she'd felt around her head since last spring had finally disappeared, and she'd barely noticed, as if day by day it had lost more and more importance.

So, finally, she'd reached the point where she was letting go of it all, the good and the bad of the longest relationship of her life, and it felt great to look back at it without breaking down in tears like she usually did.

When Susan had promised her things were going to improve she hadn't believed it for a single moment, but maybe the circumstances, namely bending in front of the toilet to throw up even her soul, had made her judge things a bit too harshly.

Things were better already.

"I'm sorry to bother you, but I'm fairly new to this part of the city. Would you mind if I asked where's the closest place that sells something against this horrible heartache I have?"

Normally Hannah hated cold temperatures, but right now she was too busy smiling at herself to be bothered by the annoying chill of the late October's air.

Which is why she didn't immediately understood the man outside the Leaky Cauldron was talking to her, and at first she made to surpass him.

"I'm sorry, Miss", he called again. "You're the first person that walks by the alley in ten minutes and I really need some type of medication".

Hannah was a little startled but did her best to hide it.

"I didn't know you were talking to me", she admitted. "But I'm afraid everything's pretty much closed at this time of the day. Your best option is St. Mungo's as of right now".

"That's unfortunate", he replied. "I gotta be at work in less than two hours and everyone knows Healers like to take their time before they visit patients who don't come in with a red code".

Her overall experience with the wizarding hospital was quite different, but she didn't want to worsen the stranger's headache by starting an argument, so she gave him an awkward smile.

"Even if they're Aurors", he added.

That information alone made her a little less jumpy. No witch liked to be stopped on a street by an unknown person while the sun was asleep, but if he worked for the DMLE, then he couldn't be one of the bad guys, right?

"I'm very sorry, Mr?"

"Loughty", he answered, offering his right hand as the Auror badge pinned on his jacket shined in the dark. "Magnus Loughty".

She shook it.

"Name's Hannah. Hannah Abbott", she introduced herself. "If you don't mind a five minutes walk I should have some leftovers of LightMind Potion at my place".

"Normally I wouldn't take advantage of your kindness", the wizard said. "But I really do feel like a Thestral walked over my brain. It'll be my pleasure to escort you, Ms. Abbott".

The man that then proceeded to accompany her as she returned to her small flat for the night wasn't much taller than her, about her age and with sandy blond hair and brown eyes. He kept his hair short, and a little stubble framed his jaw.

"Call me Hannah".

The walk to the witch's apartment was under ten minutes, during which the pair did small talk over this and that topic, often founding themselves in agreement.

Something told her the man by her side was just as lonely and disappointed by life as she'd felt in the past months.

Magnus was extremely easy to talk to, and oddly enough she was missing his company as he waited outside the building and she went upstairs to fetch the potion for him.

She blamed her unusual talkative self on the way too many drinks she'd had after shift.

As she grabbed the half empty vial from the nightstand in her bedroom, her gaze fell on her reflection in the nearby full figure mirror. Pinching her cheeks to get them a little bit more coloured, Hannah took a deep breath and returned downstairs, where Magnus was waiting and looked as if he was freezing to death.

Perhaps he was just very pale.

"This should help a little. Unfortunately, I don't have anything stronger", she apologized.

"That'll do the trick", the wizard reassured her. "Thank you, Hannah".

She smiled. "You're welcome".

It seemed as if he was about to ask something, but then he pursed his lips and weakly shook his head.

Hannah spoke without thinking. "I know it's not recommended while taking healing potions, but would you like a drink? You look as if you could use some warmth".

"A drink never killed nobody", Magnus smirked. "But I really don't want to keep you when you probably have way better things to do".

"That would be feeding my imaginary cat", she joked.

"Well, if you insist…", he trailed off, suggestively. "After you".

The witch beamed. "This way", she said, heading for the door and then leading him up four rows of stairs.

She hadn't paid much attention to the state of her apartment while retrieving the vial, but she hoped it wasn't as messy as it usually was.

Over the next hour and a half Hannah found out she had more things in common with Magnus Loughty that she could have ever imagined.

Meeting him at the end of a such an unexpectedly pleasurable evening seemed a sign directly from destiny.

Grudgingly, she walked him to the door when the time came for the Auror to go work his ten-hours night shift.

"I appreciated the company", she thanked him, eyes gleaming from the overwhelming high the absurd chain of today's event was making her feel.

"Yeah, me too. Thank you again for your help", he croaked a grin. "We should do it again some other time. That is, if you'd like the idea".

A single thought crossed her mind.

Why the hell not?

"Well, I just happen to be in need of a plus one for a party", she grinned back.

* * *

 _ **(Wizville, Curie Road n. 8 – London, England;**_  
 _ **October 25th, 2003, around 04:00 p.m.)**_

* * *

Almost twenty days after the attack that had nearly wiped off his beautiful face from the face of earth, Hermione was enjoying immensely the one on one time she was finally allowed to be spending with Malfoy.

Though Draco had returned to the Manor for the time of his recovery, not able to properly look after Adhara while simultaneously taking care of his health, the couple had agreed on meeting up in the house he'd just recently bought in WizVille for some privacy.

They were in his living room, curled up on the sofa as they watched a movie on his flat-screen TV without really paying much attention to it.

Every kiss led to another, hands everywhere, and their bodies were so pressed against one another it would have been hard for a third party to tell where Hermione ended and Draco begun. _They_ couldn't.

It was perhaps the first time since they'd started seeing each other that they got to spend almost an entire day together: Adhara was busy at school until six, and Draco had managed to have his parents retrieve her with the excuse of a curse-breaker setting some additional wards on the home around that time.

It wasn't completely a lie.

New and stronger protection spells had been placed on the house, only it hadn't been the work of a random person. If there was someone he could say he trusted with his life, and optimistically so, it was Hermione Granger.

Not only she'd had saved him from certain doom once already.

The witch also possessed a power whose extent was yet to be clarified, a source of strength her former schoolmates couldn't even begin to understand: if his enemies tried to attack him again, no curse-breaker would be able to prevent it more than she could.

His hands trailed down her back to go rest on her ass, to which he gave a not so gentle squeeze as they broke off the kiss to catch their breaths.

"What do you think it's happening there, _mh_?", she asked, looking above her shoulder and at the tv.

Draco gently bit the other, which the cut of her sweater left completely exposed.

He couldn't care less about the existential crisis the movie's protagonist was going through.

"Looks like he's finally realized all the _moping_ will get him nowhere".

She swatted him on one arm, but giggled. "You're impossible".

"I'm _impossibly right_ ", he corrected. "Happens all the time. Makes me very tired".

Just as his pouting was drawing her to plant another kiss on those lips she adored, the doorbell rang and magic was out of the window in a matter of seconds.

Draco helped her relocate from his lap to the sofa and raised from his seat with a scowl.

"I wonder who it may be. Nobody's got this address yet", he complained. "Besides, who would bother someone recovering from a near-death experience?"

The same name popped in both their minds.

" _Pansy_ ".

Indeed, when the blond opened the door he was met by the dark-haired witch's bright smile.

Pansy glanced inside, seemingly cheering up when she spotted Hermione, and dragged to his living room the three people behind her, namely Blaise, his girlfriend and Potter.

"We were having lunch together and thought it would be nice to stop by and see how you were doing", she chirped, plopping down on an armchair without waiting for an invitation.

"That was very nice of you", Draco muttered, unconvinced, as he returned to his seat next to Granger.

As much as he truly appreciated his friends and fellow Slytherins, right now it was someone else's the company he really craved.

"How are you feeling, mate?", asked Blaise, occupying the other sofa with Ginny.

They kept holding hands as Potter sat next to them, though his body was visibly directed in Pansy's direction.

"I've seen better months", Draco answered, sincerely. "I'm recovering, but not as fast as I would like. My leg's still acting a bit funky".

On his side, Hermione scoffed. "Serves you well for refusing to see MagiTech Healers. They'd patch up your tendrils in a matter of seconds".

The argument was one they'd had many times ever since he'd left St. Mungo's, and the wizard knew he was sailing in very dangerous waters.

He was running out of excuses for not taking the bloody Portkey to Australia.

Truth was he didn't want to leave Adhara alone in such uncertain times: he knew Lucius and Narcissa were going to put their lives on the line for their granddaughter at any given opportunity, but he was also genuinely afraid it wouldn't be enough.

His parents were skilled duelists, that was true, but Lucius had just recently got reacquainted with his wand, while Narcissa was much better at offensive spells than she was at shields.

He just couldn't risk something happening to his offspring while he was on the other side of the world, nor did he wanted to drag said offspring so far away from home just to have her locked up in a hospital the entire time.

"I'd be glad to keep Adhara entertained while you're with the Healer", the witch added, as if she could read into his mind. "It's not like I didn't get enough practice while you were unconscious for days, anyway".

He cut her off. "Hospitals are hardly the place for a toddler".

Draco expected Hermione to protest some more as she usually did at this point of the argument, but the familiar chain of events was altered by Pansy's excited squeal.

"I could come with you and take Adhara do something fun while you're otherwise occupied. It won't be more than a couple hours, in any case. _MT_ 's Healers are the best of the best, Draco", she offered. "You should let them see you. I actually do have some business matters in Sydney that require my attention sooner rather than later, anyway".

Blaise and Ginny exchanged a look before the red-headed spoke for the both of them. "We could join, too. _The more, the merrier_ ".

Harry pretended to cough.

"I guess I could ask Kingsley for one or two days after the shifts he's been giving me recently. I'm up for a vacation, as little as it may be, at any given moment", he joined, though his remark seemed directed at his fiancée rather than at the owner of the house.

"I appreciate the sentiment", Draco said. "And thank you, too. But I really don't want to bother you all with my _shit_ more than I already did-"

"Bollocks, Draco!", Zabini exclaimed. "It's decided. As soon as Hermione can get you an appointment with her Healer, we're all leaving for Australia".

"Suck it up, Drake. It's been decided", Pansy repeated with a smirk.

The blond turned his face to the right and spotted an identical one on Hermione's lips. Only now he did realize he'd been _played_.

The information she'd shared hadn't been casual, but spoken out loud with the sole purpose of getting their friends on board with her plan to take him to an Australian Healer.

It felt very odd to formulate such a simple thought – _their friends_ – but also somewhat nice.

As much as he'd known Pansy and Blaise for a large part of his life, and Ginny had started hanging out with their usual group shortly after first hooking up with Zabini, it was still weird to add Potter to the list of the people he'd invite to an _inner-circle-only_ event.

Now more than ever he was happy about the six months he'd spent with The Boy Who Lived at the _DMLE_ , back to a simpler time where Draco hadn't been a father and therefore responsible only for himself.

At first both wizards had struggled with letting go of the past, but after a couple of unnecessarily heated and unfiltered arguments, in which they'd screamed at each other regrettably nasty things, the two had managed to find a way to co-operate, and slowly but steadily a tentative friendship between the two had blossomed.

It had gone pretty much _dry_ the day Draco had resigned from Auror training upon hearing the news of his daughter's birth, but it was still there and he was very grateful for it.

If he'd tried only for Hermione's sake, the Slytherin wasn't sure he could have forced himself to get along with the likes of Potter.

He was pretty much sure he was never going to like Ronald Weasley, after all.

The witch glanced up at him from her telephone and tried to look innocent.

"They'll see you on Friday afternoon", she announced. "We can all take the Portkey from my apartment".

As the crowd around him started agreeing on time of departure, number of suitcases allowed and activities to try once in Australia, a quite flabbergasted Draco looked between Hermione and Pansy, shaking his head.

" _I'm being completely overruled, don't I?_ "

* * *

Some time later it was easier for Draco to accept the idea of packing up some bags and have a casual trip to the other side of the planet in less than two days.

It was going to be Adhara's first trip out of England, and there were very high chances things didn't go as planned and turned messy very soon.

But it wasn't the time to care for all of _that_.

If chances were high, _Draco was higher_. _Pansy and her bloody brownies_.

Luckily for him, there were still hours left before his eventual return to the Manor for dinner.

But how could he keep a straight face and fabricate some story for his mother about the guy who'd placed the new wards when all he could touch were his _feelings_ and _why did his skin felt like a cloud_?

Blaise and Potter were currently having a _not so friendly_ match at wizarding chess, one in which winning seemed to matter far more than the rules.

"You can't do that", Ginny protested as she returned her boyfriend's _Queen_ to her former position on the chessboard. "You can't just eat a piece because you don't _like_ it".

"I'm with Red on this one", Pansy said, looking disapprovingly at her fiancée. "If you want to cheat, the least you can do is try _not_ to get caught".

A small fit of laughter came from his shoulder, where Hermione was resting her head.

"If only he ever tried to learn how to _play_ chess rather than how to get away with cheating".

Draco tightened his hold around her, pulling the woman closer to him.

"He's hopeless, anyway", he whispered in her ear. "Couldn't fool a kid".

" _Mh_ ", was all she had to say about it.

Something else seemed to be on Granger's mind as she broke their embrace to look up at him.

"I'm sorry I dragged them into this. I shouldn't have. But you wouldn't even _begin_ to listen to me..."

If that was what she called an apology, perhaps he'd finally found a subject she wasn't very good at.

Actually, _she kind of sucked_.

"And I had perfectly good reasons not to do that", he dryly chuckled. "But what's done is done, and I wouldn't mind getting my leg fixed, after all".

"I would have asked the Healer to come here if only the Ministry didn't tighten our borders so much lately", she complained. "But I'm glad I get to show you where I lived for the past five years. Something tells me you'll love it there".

A single thought crossed his mind, but he couldn't get past the _cringe_ of even thinking it.

 _I'd love it everywhere if I'm with you_.

Draco couldn't tell exactly in which moment he'd fell for her, if it had been at the reunion, when he'd seen her and for a moment he'd forgotten about anything but her name, or if it had been a slower, more gradual process, but truth was he'd fallen _hard_.

Even as the world around him started to shake and crumble and death felt too close and friendly for a man his age, all it took was one look at her face for the wizard to truly enjoy being alive.

The more he knew about her the more he wanted to discover, and even though his position felt extremely precarious ( _she could do so much better than a single father and former child Death-Eater with spiked brownies in his living room_ ), the relationship he had with her was like no one he'd had in his life.

He never felt like he needed to _hide_ when he was with Hermione; she had this special little habit of making him feel especially welcome and. after a lifetime of playing his part, the opportunity to just _be_ was alluring and irresistible. _Delicious_.

"A trip's always nice", he shrugged. "I guess pretty much everywhere is better than home right now. I never thought I wouldn't feel _safe_ in my own country".

"It's pretty bad not having a _bloodline_ to shield yourself with, isn't it?"

There was nothing _sour_ in her voice, but something in her eyes suggested Hermione was deep in her thoughts, reminiscing like she did so very often.

For the most part, it was about the war.

Draco was starting to understand how Muggleborn students had probably felt with the Basilisk strolling around Hogwarts looking for one of them to either kill or petrify.

Life was precious and they rightfully cherished it. It was so fucking _unfair_ for someone else to try and take it away from them.

"How sad is that I still need a shield?", he asked. "It's been _five_ years".

"And it'll be five more, I'm afraid", Potter chimed in. "Once Kingsley's out the door, you can bet your ass we get someone less _radical_ for a Minister".

Apparently their conversation hadn't been as _private_ as he'd thought.

That didn't mean other people were invited to join and give their opinion.

How rude of Potter to assume so.

Without thinking about it, Draco grabbed another brownie from Pansy's plastic container, and remembered only after swallowing half of it that it wasn't normal food.

This _thing_ was getting a little out of hand.

"Only Fudge is _less radical_ than Shacklebolt", Blaise smirked. "Another bloody tax raise. I realize Voldemort was _bad_ and we should prevent such a thing from ever happening again, but how is sucking to death what's left of Purebloods the solution?"

"I don't have an answer for that", Harry said, looking apologetic. "I don't really keep up with the politics, but something's definitely _off_ inside the Ministry".

" _You have a mole_ ", Draco announced, voice dripping with sarcasm. "Too much weird stuff is making it to the papers".

"It's a public office with over a _thousand_ employees, Malfoy. Someone's bound to talk to the press from time to time. We're the fucking _government_ ".

"I'm not talking about the Ministry as a whole, Potter", he countered. "I'm talking about the DMLE. _Salazar_ , for all I know it could be even in your bloody team-"

Granger forced him to stop by elbowing him on the ribs. "Ehm, _what Draco meant_ here..."

"Thank you, Hermione, but I think I can understand for myself _what Draco meant there_ ", Harry replied, more quietly than the man would have expected. "I can't tell you I didn't think about it, too. But that's all I can say on the subject, considering none of you is an Auror and therefore allowed to receive classified information of any kind or shape".

"You sound like a textbook, _babe_ ", Pansy scolded him. "If I wanted that I would have married Granger, you know? She's richer than you are".

"And hotter than Icarus Flint", Draco muttered.

It had been a while since he'd thought about the circumstances in which Pansy had left England, but even today he couldn't bring himself to do it without feeling the same anger he'd felt all those years before.

What Howard and Cordelia Parkinson had done to Pansy had been horrid, heartless.

Pureblood families weren't exactly the best at parenting, but threatening to disinherit your child if she refused to marry the man you'd picked was a very specific strain of evil.

One that sadly seemed to be very common in their society.

It made him two times more sick to think that this type of bullshit had been pulled on two of his closest friends. Well, three since Idabelle Selwyn had had two daughters.

Draco could see a glimmer of hope, though.

It was taking longer than anyone would have expected, but things were changing.

Euriphides Greengrass, head of one the oldest and most prestigious Houses, had recently put into motion the process to _divorce_ his wife, something that was known to happen in Pureblood circles no more than a couple of times every decade.

His own father was getting acquainted with Muggle technology and reconnecting with the estranged sister-in-law he'd always refused to talk about when Draco had been a child and asked about the aunt that was never around.

Hermione Granger, Brightest Witch of Her Age and Muggleborn extraordinaire, was a Nott.

Cantankerus was still a _dick_ , but he guessed dead people were bound to stay the same.

On that note, he was worried about how his daughter was dealing with what she'd recently discovered.

It turned out the time she'd met him at the Ministry while he had sported his Death-Eater mask hadn't been the only one.

From what she'd shared the man had actually been a rather constant presence in her childhood, one of the few adults, or people in general, she'd ever opened up with.

She'd told him she felt stupid and weak.

She had been secretly glad Theodore had completely cancelled his face from the Manor, and never dared to ask for a picture because she'd been afraid of finding out something despicable.

Hermione was extremely annoyed over having been played so badly.

He couldn't blame her.

If there was something Draco could really relate too, was how it felt when the adults in your life disappoint you and toy with your life.

Now that he thought about it, it was something he shared with many of the people he loved the most: Theodore, Pansy, Blaise, Greg. Daphne and Astoria.

Pansy dragged him back to reality.

"It was meant to happen", she said. "Draco, Blaise. You met my parents. I knew I was going to be cut from the family the moment I had my first thought about kissing a girl".

She didn't said her name out loud, but Draco knew she was talking about Daphne.

He'd been one of the very few people to know about their relationship back in school, and the friend who'd given her his shoulder to cry on the day the two had broken up.

"The war just made it a hundred times worse", Pansy added as an afterthought.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but the Parkinson family didn't _openly_ side with Voldemort during the war", Ginny piped up. "I can picture their bigotry, but isn't the whole point of the Sacred Twenty-Eight to reproduce and don't see their name swallowed by history?"

"It's the Sacred Twenty-Two now", said Blaise. "Well, Twenty-One when Ollivander dies. He's not known to have a heir".

Pansy toasted at that with half a brownie she then shared with her beau before turning to Ginny.

"To answer your question, if your children are gay or fall in love with the _wrong_ people, it doesn't matter they're your children anymore", she explained. "It's really all about the _blood_ ".

"That's so _fucking_ stupid", snarled Hermione, who was quite opinionated on the subject. Rightfully so. "And **_anti-scientific_**. Honestly, Purebloods are always flaunting about how golden they _shit_ yet they carry on with the most _barbaric_ , _uncivilized_ , _inhuman_ and _oppressive_ traditions I've ever laid my eyes on. Some of those things would make the Inquisition blush".

" _Oi_ ", Ginny protested. " _Hashtag not all Purebloods_ ".

" _Preach_ , sister", a familiar voice said from the doorstep.

Nott entered his living room with Luna trailing closely behind, her blonde, almost white hair basking in the light coming from the wall-sized window.

Draco got up to greet his best friend and his girlfriend of a couple months, then sat back down and re-enveloped his own in a tight embrace.

"Your security sucks", Theo said, quickly scanning the room to find the more appropriate place to sit in the crowded room. "The door was open".

"There are six of us in the room, eight now. And one's an Auror", Draco replied. "We should be fine".

"You should still be more careful", the other retorted. "Vigilance is key".

It was Harry's time to toast. " _Constant vigilance_!"

Draco was slowly getting a little more balanced in his euphoria, but Potter seemed to have just taken the _high_ road and was not holding back. He could respect _that_.

"Seriously, mate. Just pay attention until those jocks are caught", Theo recommended one last time. Then, addressing his sister. "I'm afraid _daddy_ 's not budging".

Hermione rolled her eyes. "Let me guess. He'll speak _exclusively_ to me? Of course he can't just accept that I give zero shits about whatever he has to share that doesn't involve the question I asked him".

"That about sums it up", he nodded. "He also kind of hinted that you'll be glad you've gone when he tells you what he knows, but it's not like I trust a single word that comes out of his mouth. He just wants his five minutes of attention".

"Well, I always suspected he was a borderline narcissist. Just never said anything about it because he was very good with the music", Hermione reminisced, and it was the first time she spontaneously shared something about her personal relationship with Cantankerus.

The one built on her believing he was a muggle pianist rather than a wizard, and a dark one at that. One fiendish enough to join Voldemort.

The witch shifted uncomfortably in her seat. "I should probably get it done, then".

Draco kissed her on the temple before he whispered something in her ear.

"Do you want me to come with you?", he asked her.

Hermione reached for her purse, retrieving it from where it had ended up beneath the coffee table and forced a smile before she replied. "It's better if I go alone. We don't want to give his ego a larger audience, _do we_?"

She planted a kiss on a side of his mouth, said goodbye to the others and promised she would return as soon as she could.

She turned back only once on her way to the door.

"Make sure Malfoy doesn't put more weight on his leg that it's absolutely necessary".

* * *

 ** _(Nott Manor: the dungeons – somewhere in Dorset, England;_**  
 ** _October 25th, 2003, around 05:35 p.m.)_**

* * *

It didn't take more than five minutes to apparate to Nott Manor and be on her not-so-merry way to the narrow pit of bottomless sorrow her father's portrait was held inside of.

She found him sitting on one of the armchairs painted across the scenery of his eternal home, the pose of his body that of someone firmly convinced to be better than the rest of the world.

She raised her up her chin, defiantly, and mirrored his stance.

 _Two could play this game_.

" _Speak_ ", she ordered.

Her tone vaguely similar to the one the portrait of Sirius Black's mother had specially reserved for Kreacher and, well, herself.

Back when her blood hadn't been pure and therefore, according to some, worth _spilling_.

Cantankerus remained silent as he was joined by his wife in the portrait, with just a tiny hint of a smirk plastered on his thin lips.

"It's a joy for my eyes to see you again, _dear_ ", Anastasia greeted her.

Her expression was very soft and very sad, but instead of making the witch sympathetic, her attitude simply increased her anger.

She was acting as if she was merely a victim of circumstances, but Hermione wasn't buying it.

"I'm not here to exchange pleasantries with the likes of you", she stated. "Just tell me who you managed to piss off that might want to unleash on Theodore or I. You _owe_ me that much".

Cantankerus drew a deep breath and forced himself to ignore the pained expression on his wife's face.

Normally he'd have scolded either one of his children for treating their mother that way, but right now it was them who had the upper hand in the relationship, what with being the ones still alive and he and Anastasia locked up in portraits, and, despite the circumstances, he was still determined to salvage what was left of his relationship with them.

"You're right. I owe you that much", he said. "Being my paranoid self, I used to keep a journal where I tried to record the important stuff, like the countless feathers I ruffled in my time at the Ministry".

"Theodore never mentioned a journal", was all she managed to reply.

"It's because he didn't know they existed", Anastasia added. "I've never heard of them myself".

"That's because they never left my office at the Foundation", her husband explained.

"I happen to know my brother occupied that office for some time. Surely he'd have found them in the time he spent there", Hermione countered. "If you're _messing_ with me..."

Her threat hanged in the air.

There wasn't much she could do to hurt the two paintings rather than burn them.

"I can promise you I'm not", Cantankerus reassured her, struggling to keep his tone quiet and affable.

He didn't need to enrage the _spitfire_ he knew his daughter could be.

"But you'll have to trust me on this one".

Hermione emitted a dry chuckle. " _As if_ that's even a possibility".

"In the wall behind my desk there was a clock", he instructed. "If you prick a finger on the spike above the twelve, your blood will open a secret passage that'll lead you to the small room where I stored them. Top shelf of the bookcase".

The witch mentally repeated to herself what she'd just learned, hoping to succeed on her first attempt and never have to confront Cantankerus Nott ever again.

Only the sight of him made her ill.

"Any year or period I should give priority to?", she asked, taking a step back, closer to the door.

"I joined the Dark Lord when I was eighteen, but I started writing the journals sometime after I married your mother", he replied. "The diaries from previous periods, I'm afraid, were lost the day Theodore returned to the Manor after the war".

Hermione grimaced.

"Hopefully something useful will come out of this", she murmured.

Now that it was finally time for her to leave, she didn't have the slightest idea on how to greet them.

Technically, it was the last time she had the intention of coming down there.

Anastasia eyed her sadly. "Please be careful", she pleaded. "Take care of your brother".

She rolled her eyes.

 _As if she hadn't been doing precisely_ that _since the moment she'd found out she had one._

"You'll be pleased to know I saved him from a fake engagement he had with Daphne, then", Hermione teased.

Externally it could have sounded as an attempt to give some information about her son to a desperate mother looking for answers, but in reality her intentions weren't so candid.

All she wanted was for these two to know how much their choices had fucked up Theo's life.

And her own.

"And that I may have pushed Euriphides into divorcing his _crazy bitch_ of a wife".

Despite the fact she was talking with people she disliked almost as much as she despised Idabelle Greengrass, thinking back of the night she'd exposed her scheme and accidentally _ruined_ her life always put her in a good mood.

If normally she considered herself a pacifist, _blonde middle-aged English witches_ were lately waking up her avenger instincts more and more often.

She was outraged at how Rita Skeeter hadn't managed to learn her lesson after spending months trapped in a jar.

"You did my brother a favour", Anastasia said. "I never liked her".

Hermione didn't appreciate the bonding attempt.

She was trying to make them feel guilty and miserable, not to connect with them.

" _At least she didn't marry a Death Eater_ ", she said, flashing her sweetest fake smile before waving a hand at them. "I can't say it was a pleasure, but it's over now. _Goodbye_ ".

Anastasia broke down in sobs, it seemed she had a bit of a habit of doing that, while Cantankerus raised up from his seat and looked at her before checking on his wife.

" _Goodbye_ ", he repeated.

Something in his tone sounded as if he was winning, and she hated it.

* * *

 ** _(The Nott Foundation — Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 25th, 2003, around 05:55 p.m.)_**

* * *

As soon as her feet touched the floor outside the dungeons, Hermione rushed to the nearest apparition point inside of Nott Manor and from there to Diagon Alley, where the Nott family company had its headquarters.

She had been there a couple times over the summer while Theo was still working there, but the majestic building never missed the chance to impress her, and it didn't today.

It was a triumph of clean lines and pleasing angles, simple and at the same time eye-catching.

At the secretary on the ground floor she asked to urgently speak with Ms. Sterne, the young woman to whom Theo had left reins of the company since he'd left, but _Fiona_ was proving to be quite difficult to deal with.

After the third sad attempt to _bribe_ her, something she was going to ask a little more about to her Slytherin companions, Hermione was ready to resort to threats when Lauren stepped into the atrium on her way out of work.

Recognizing her, the witch walked hurriedly in the direction of Fiona's desk, shockingly graceful despite her very high heels. "Miss Nott, so nice to see you".

The secretary scoffed. "That's not the name she gave to me".

Under any other circumstance she'd have appreciated the tight respect of the rules this woman was showing on her working place, but right now Hermione just thought of her as incredibly annoying.

She was losing enough time already thanks to Cantankerus _fucking_ Nott.

A Death Eater. A liar. Someone who had manipulated her for years.

The personification of what she thought of as a monster.

"Everything's fine, Fiona", Lauren waved off the secretary's concerns. "Hermione here is Mr. Nott's sister, but she's a bit more famous for being the witch who helped Harry Potter saving our world".

Mrs. Mills shrugged. She knew it was better not to get too political inside the Foundation.

It was still full of employees who were still loyal to the old ways that had been so dear to young Theodore's father.

"She wanted to talk to you, anyway. I think my job here is fulfilled".

With that she returned to her work, apparently ignoring the other two women, but keeping her ears open for the chance of catching up on some juicy gossip, something she could share at the new tea-room she was currently having her afternoon breaks at.

Lauren smiled. "I'll be happy to do anything I can for you as long as it's legal".

Hermione returned the smile, but looked suspiciously around her.

"Isn't there somewhere we could have a little more private conversation?", she asked.

She didn't specifically looked at the secretary, but Ms. Sterne did.

"Of course", she nodded. "Let's go to my office".

Lauren led them to opposite side of the atrium, where they took the lift to the eleventh and last floor.

She thought it was nice to share anecdotes about the company.

"When the late Mr. Nott renovated the headquarters in nineteen-ninety-six he had three floors added to the building. People around the office believe he did so to celebrate your brother's birth", she bit on her lip. "Yours as well, I suppose".

"I think they were being romantic and trying to convince themselves that their boss was _human_ ".

The doors of the lift opened in that moment.

Hermione took a deep breath and stepped out, having a look at the place and noticing that not many things had changed since the last time she'd been here.

A spacious corridor with big glass doors that led to the offices of the people on top of the chain.

When the other woman grabbed the handle of the door of the same office that had been Theo's, the Gryffindor felt as if _Godric's luck_ was finally smiling at her.

"This is going to be so much easier", she hummed happily as she stepped into the room.

"What is?", Lauren inquired. "Take a seat, please. Would you like something to drink?"

Without waiting for a reply the current head of the Foundation went to a small cabinet on the left side of the room, took a bottle of wine and two glasses.

"Just a finger or two, I have been _not sober_ once already, today", Hermione answered.

Even though her encounter with Cantankerus and Anastasia had definitely tampered the effect of Pansy's brownies, the witch still wanted to be lucid for what was about to come next.

If everything went according to plan, she had an entire evening of investigating ahead of her, and hopefully some answers to be found before the end of the day.

"Celebrating something?", Lauren asked, politely, pouring her the amount of wine she'd requested.

"You could say that", Hermione smiled, but didn't elaborate.

A comfortable silence engulfed the space as they sipped on their glasses, but it lasted no longer than a minute.

"Look, Lauren. The reason I'm here is that I recently discovered my father had a room hidden inside his office, which last time I checked was the one Theo had, and that was passed to you. I happen to really need something that's inside that room, and so I'm asking to please let me look for it now. I wouldn't bother you if it wasn't really important".

* * *

Lauren had been extremely understanding and very respectful of her privacy, which she appreciated immensely. She'd accepted her request without pestering her with questions, conjured up a ladder for her and stepped out of her own office to go check on some papers whose name seemed definitely made up on the spot.

So now Hermione found herself staring at the old clock, her index finger suspended mid-air above the highest spike around it.

Of course Cantankerus Nott would choose _blood protections_ while shopping for wards.

Honestly, it was _so_ predictable.

Taking a deep breath she pushed the tender flesh on the old metal, taking a mental note to check on her vaccination record for tetanus, and just a moment after her blood touched its surface the fireplace on the other side of the room shifted and revealed a small passage.

The space was narrow but clean and illuminated by an endless candle hanged one side of the wall.

It took only a couple of steps for the witch to reach a wooden door, which she opened with no hesitation.

Inside the second room was very little furniture, just a giant library, a writing desk, one chair and a safe.

It was the first time she saw a space that used to belong to Cantankerus that didn't look overly luxurious, and it became an instant favourite of hers.

Without wasting any time, the witch used her wand to _Accio_ the wizard's journals, and many small black volumes stacked into a pile at her feet.

Then a small ivory box came out of a lower shelf and placed itself on top of it.

Magically downsizing her loot, Hermione put everything inside of her shoulder-bag and gave a final look at the room.

She was probably going to come back to check the safe with Theodore, but for now it was time she took her leave. It was forty past six already, and she had little more than a hour to spend with Draco before the man would have to return to Malfoy Manor for dinner.

Returning to the Lauren's office she found the woman sitting at her desk, eyes on some papers she was reviewing, and after thanking her again she waited for the witch to put on her trench coat once more.

They walked back to the lift together, and engaged in small-talk until it was time to say goodbye in the atrium.

"I'm glad you found what you were looking for", Lauren said. "Let me know if you need anything else".

Hermione smiled nervously. She felt like she was taking advantage of her kindness, but at the same time she couldn't help it.

"Actually, I'll probably need to go in there at least once more", she confessed. "I'm very sorry I have to bother you to solve the puzzles of a dead man. I was thinking that maybe I could pay you for the time you'll lose".

"Oh, don't be silly! You're welcome to come anytime you need", Lauren replied. "Just maybe owl me with a little advance, so that I can tell you when I can grant you some privacy".

"Thank you for your cooperation. _Truly_ ", Hermione said, while her smile reached her eyes this time.

She was glad Theo had had such a nice person close to him in the shit-show his life had been after the war, inside the family company he so obviously didn't want to take care of.

"I'll be waiting for your owl, then", Lauren concluded. "It's been a pleasure. Could you tell your brother I say _Hi_?"

"Of course I will", the Gryffindor reassured her. Offering her right hand, she smiled once more at the younger witch. "You'll be hearing again from me soon".

The other shook it, then turned on the spot and dis-apparated.

Hermione followed after her.

* * *

 ** _( Wizville, Curie Road n. 8 – London, England;  
October 25th, 2003, around 06:30 p.m. )_**

* * *

Draco closed the main door for the last time after promising Pansy for the hundredth time that he wasn't going to bail on their trip at the last second with some far-fetched excuse.

It wasn't as if he hadn't thought about it, still unsure about dragging his toddler to the other side of the world with such short notice, but the way his friends had pressed him on the issue had convinced him it was for the best if he tried to fix his leg as soon as possible.

This wasn't the time to play the martyr.

 _His present pain wasn't going to erase his past misdeeds, anyway_.

Theo had been the last to arrive and the first one to leave around thirty minutes ago.

Unluckily, he wasn't going to make it to Australia with them, but the two had made plans for the following week. Luna had left with him.

Blaise and Ginny had followed shortly after, saying they needed to sober up before their dinner that night at the Burrow, though by the way they'd winked and smirked at each other as if they were invisible, every single person in the room had thought it was simply an excuse to go home and _fuck_ the high out of their systems.

Pansy stayed even after Potter left for the beginning of his shift.

For the first time the two had the occasion to talk about his relationship with Hermione and the dark-haired witch didn't miss on the opportunity.

From her questions it was clear she was trying to determine whether his intentions with the witch were serious or not, but it didn't take long for Draco to convince her that he could see himself putting the proverbial _ring_ on it in the future.

Not that he'd said specifically so, but it was the conclusion Pansy had drawn from what she had called his _puppy eyes_ while talking about Granger, and he'd had nothing to object.

He really was smitten with her.

Unlocking the screen on his phone, as he waited for the witch to return he set out on managing his _social_ life: he liked some pictures, gave his adherence to an event planned for the following month about muggle beer, replied to a text from Greg and donated a couple Galleons for the birthday of an ex schoolmate he didn't even remember adding to his list of friends and their _cause_ of choice.

He was about to exit Mirror and open up one of the games Theo had forced him to install on his device when he got a message from Astoria, which surprised him a little.

If the two had managed to stay friends after their affair back in Hogwarts, they usually never spent time together if at least another of their mutual friends, or Daphne, were present.

Things were a little awkward between them, considering he'd been a bit of an asshole with a girl who'd thought of him as her first love.

The war had gotten in the way of a relationship Draco had been strangely committed to, and thought he doubted the two of them would have made it past his sixth year anyway, he still regretted the way he'd shoved her off and cut all ties with the witch not long before their second anniversary.

* * *

 **06:37 p.m.  
From**: Astoria Greengrass

" _When you have time I'd really need to talk to you_ ".

* * *

The wizard was surprised, but also a little concerned. This move was out of script.

The blond had been exceptionally wary ever since the attack, and immediately wondered if it had something to do with whatever _terrorists_ the magical side of London was currently dealing with.

* * *

 **06:38 p.m.  
To**: Astoria Greengrass

" _I can floo to your place after dinner. The Manor's still crowded with Aurors. Not much privacy. Unless you want to talk with them_ ".

* * *

 **06:38 p.m.  
To**: Astoria Greengrass

" _Are you OK?_ "

* * *

It didn't take long for the woman to reply.

* * *

 **06:39 p.m.**

 **From** : Astoria Greengrass

" _Come here when you want. I'll set up the fireplace around eight._ "

* * *

 **06:39 p.m.  
From**: Astoria Greengrass

" _Everything's fine. Kinda. Just discovered something and need to talk about it._ "

* * *

 **06:40 p.m.  
From**: Astoria Greengrass

" _See you later. Thank you, Draco_. :)"

* * *

He was still a bit worried, but not as much.

It seemed to be something personal, and that left him with the curiosity of knowing why she'd reached out to him of all people.

Setting the phone aside, the Slytherin set out on cleaning up the mess his friends had made of his living room.

He was lucky Adhara had temporarily moved back to Malfoy Manor, because the room was definitely not sanitary.

Draco wasn't necessary an overly tidy person, but growing up aristocratic and with Elves cleaning up after you for a lifetime, he had _standards_.

Especially since he'd become a father and learned through muggle books how many things actually endangered the lives of babies.

It was incredible in how many stupid ways you could die if magic was out of reach. He knew something about it, since his first experience of the muggle world had been rather traumatic.

London, big and beautiful as it was, was too much for a Pureblood wizard to take his first steps.

With a flick of his wand he sent the glasses in the sink, where they started cleaning themselves, and the rubbish to its bin.

He'd many of them actually, they came with every house in WizVille, but Hermione was yet to share with him the rules of _recycling,_ so for now the only visible difference between them was their colour.

Manually replacing the pillows on the sofa, his eyes fell on the TV, where the movie he'd been watching with Granger was paused in the middle of the final climax.

They'd watched a bit with their guests after their arrival, but soon they'd given up.

Draco still thought _the protagonist was an idiot_ , _anyway_. _Hard pass_.

Five minutes later, when the doorbell finally rang, he'd been sitting on the sofa catching up with some Quidditch on the TV.

With the bins came free access to MagiTech's sports network.

"I'm so sorry. The thing with the painting took a bit more than I anticipated", Hermione said when he entered her line of sight.

He stepped out to let her in.

"Did you manage to find something, at least?", he asked.

The witch showed her bag to him.

"It's all in here", she announced. "Are you up for a bit of light reading?"

Without waiting for his reply she plopped down on the sofa and removed her shoes, then opened the bag and started taking small black tomes out of it, which she then enlarged without the help of her wand. The last item she produced was a box of a different shape, but she set it on one side, as if saving it for later.

Draco sat down with her.

"What is all of this?", he inquired. "Are these your father's?"

She shivered when he said the last word, and he wanted to bit his tongue.

He knew she hated when people referred to Cantankerus Nott that way.

She didn't think of him as his father, at least from what she'd said and he had deduced from observing her.

"Yes. These diaries belonged to Cantankerus, but he kept them in a secret room in his office at the Foundation. So I had to go there and ask to look for it. Icing on the cake, I also had to _bleed on a clock_ to open it. _That man was fucking sick_ ".

Yeah, she definitely didn't like the guy.

"From what he said, they should be some sort of journals when he wrote down things he thought important, like people he made enemies of", she explained. "I'm not sure they're going to be of any help, but it's better than play sitting ducks".

Draco nodded. "Anything that makes me feel like I am _doing_ something is well accepted".

"That's why I schemed to get you to Sydney", she chided. "Wizarding medicine is not supposed to take this long to heal you".

Perhaps now it was as good a time as ever to tell her what he'd discovered about the cures he'd received at St. Mungo's, but he was too ashamed: if money had allowed Hermione to get him the best room, the hospital had deliberately put him in the hands of the worst healers it could offer, and it had done it in purpose.

"We'll see if we can do anything about it on Friday", he surrendered.

Draco grabbed one of the books and opened it on a random page.

"Let's focus on one problem at a time", he suggested. "I have to be at the Manor in a hour, but I can surely go through a couple of these tomorrow morning".

Glancing down at the page, he started skimming through the text.

It was an account of Theodore's fourteenth birthday, the first one following his mother's death, and it seemed to have been a pretty sad event.

He'd gifted his son a ridiculously expensive wand-cane which he was sure his friend had never used.

 _What was the thing with older wizards and wand-canes_?

"I think we should read them chronologically", Hermione mused.

In the following thirty minutes the pair managed to barely start delving into the journals, so they decided to split them up and keep each other updated via phone.

They were supposed to spend some time together the following day, anyway.

Draco felt guilty about not being available that night, leaving large part of the work to Granger, there was no way in heaven or hell she was going to wait and not binge-read the diaries, but when he voiced his concerns she shut him up, laughing.

"Don't even worry about it", she reassured him. "Go talk to Astoria and see if you can be any help. Besides, it's not as if I'm going through this stuff on my own. I'm having dinner with Theo and I was thinking we could pass some of the work to him..."

"He gets pissed when left out of things", he concluded for her.

"Precisely", Hermione nodded. "Not to mention he'll probably know a lot better which names deserve special consideration".

"Sounds like a good plan", Draco smiled at her. "Text me if you find something".

"You're welcome to join us if you're done early", she invited him as her small frame disappeared inside her oversized jacket. "I'll keep you updated".

" _Later_ ", Draco greeted as he kissed her goodbye before he escorted her to the door. " _Keep safe_ ".

" _You too, Malfoy_ ".


	34. THROW IT BACK

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**. You can also find me as **slytherinsauce** on both **tumblr** and **pinterest** with more content dedicated to this story. Beware of spoilers.

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 **Author's notes** : Happy New Year! Another chapter is out of the way and there will be four more before the end of the second part of the story, which will be followed by another interlude. I'm very excited for what comes next and I can't wait for you guys to read it. I hope you don't hate me too much over the first half of this chapter, it's just me giving my personal spin to a trope I never liked. I don't why in FFs, when something seems to be going awry with her relationships, Hermione generally spirals down and starts deprecating herself over her perceived failures or the feeling of "not being enough". That's not the Hermione I imagined. She may be insecure at times, but she's not _Moaning Myrtle_ , is she?  
Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the chapter and spare me two minutes of your time to post a review and let me know what you think! Your comments really make my days. :)) Also, I turned 24 two days ago, so I'm officially older than my main characters ahah!

p.s. I have a new poll in my bio!

p.p.s. I totally recommend you check out the song that titles this chapter! It's by Missy Elliott and it's great!

* * *

 **34.**

 **THROW IT BACK**

 **.**

* * *

" _flip it and reverse it, stupid with the verses,_  
 _man, I got the coat and shoes just to match the purses_

 _I don't need rehearsing,_  
 _the way I throw it back_  
 _I show the whole crowd how I work it_ "

* * *

 ** _(Astoria's apartment – Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 25th, 2003, around 11:15 p.m.)_**

* * *

The witch stared at the flames, a blanket around her shoulders and a glass of wine in one hand.

She'd barely had one with Draco, who hadn't been feeling particularly up to drinking that night, but right now she was determined to drink every last sip before finally calling it a day.

Astoria couldn't believe she'd embarrassed herself in such a way.

She'd looked like a fool, and she had no idea how she was going to look Draco in the eyes ever again.

If there had been a chance they could rekindle the old relationship they'd had in Hogwarts it was gone. It had to be.

The woman didn't know what she'd been thinking.

To battle her eyelashes and try to _kiss_ him.

The noise outside her window averted her from her thoughts.

Living in Diagon Alley had its perks, like being at a walking distance from St. Mungo's and near the _Mason_ , while also close to pretty much everything a young witch of her age could possibly need.

A couple seemed to be arguing on the streets, and from the sound of it she wasn't sure they were going to be together for much longer.

" _Sometimes you're such a bitch, Karen!_ "

There was a thud, followed by a silence that was promptly broken by a vibration of her phone.

It was a message from her sister, who wondered if she was still awake and up for a call.

She was promising juicy gossip, but Astoria knew it was an excuse to check on her.

Daphne had been the first person she'd told about the appearance of her biological father.

She was trying to be as positive as she could about the situation - it wasn't that man's fault, he'd been just another one of her mother's pawns -, but deep down she wasn't sure what to think of it.

It sucked enough to know the man who'd raised her wasn't the one who'd fathered her.

Astoria hadn't been ready to actually meet the guy, and she was still refraining from telling Euriphides. So far he'd been his splendid and loving usual self about the whole ordeal, but she still feared how he could react to this new piece of information.

She pressed the _call_ button on Daphne's contact-page.

"Hey, sister", she saluted. "How was your night out?"

"Nothing too intense. I went out for a couple of drinks with Tracey, but since she's pregnant I switched to Pumpkin Juice very soon. It's sad to be the only drunk person at the table", the other replied. "How was yours?"

Astoria finished her wine in one sip and poured herself another glass.

Her sight was becoming fuzzy, but she didn't care.

"Nothing too intense", she repeated. "You know what was? The hospital this morning".

Daphne laughed. "You know how I feel about _that_ , Tori".

Her sister firmly believed her _talent_ \- whatever she meant with that - was wasted at St. Mungo's, especially since they seemed keen to keep her as low in the hierarchy as they could, and she often suggested she'd just work full time with her in the family business.

Only recently had Astoria started considering the idea.

"Let's talk about something else. Today just might be day you convince me to leave my job".

"That's actually nice to hear", Daphne quipped. "Seriously, Tori. It's time we have a serious talk about this".

"Not _tonight_ , Daph", the other said, and it sounded very final. From the other side of the line came only a sigh.

Astoria tried to lighten up the mood a little.

"Didn't you call me because you had something to tell me?"

"Oh, _yes_. Right!", Daphne welcomed her attempt at moving on. "At first I wasn't really sure I was going to tell you, but it's been like, what? _Seven years_? Anyway, Tracey was told by Gregory who was told by Zabini who actually has firsthand experience of the matter at hand..."

Astoria didn't like where this was going.

"It appears Draco and our cousin are an item now".

 _Fuck_.

"Can you _believe_ it? It's such an _odd_ pair if you think of how they used to be in school".

"It's not so odd if you think of how they are now", Astoria disagreed.

It actually made perfect sense.

She only wished she'd known this when she'd tried to kiss Draco.

The witch needed to re-order her thoughts, but that wasn't going to happen until her sister kept chattering about what a perfect magazine-cover couple they made.

"I'm gonna go now", she announced. "I was thinking I could come to have lunch with you and dad tomorrow if that's fine with you".

"You don't have to ask permission to come to your own house, Tori", Daphne reprimanded her. "You're still a Greengrass, whether you like it or not".

"I hate that the only parent I'm actually related to is _Idabelle_ ", she snorted. "Goodnight, Daph. I'll see you tomorrow. Sleep well".

Astoria didn't wait for a reply.

Dropping the phone on one side, she grabbed her head between her hands.

 _How was she going to fix this_?

How could she explain to Hermione that the man she was dating had been her first love, back when he hadn't been this refined version of himself, and that she'd felt lonely lately and thought perhaps she could _try_?

Originally she'd invited him because she needed someone that wasn't part of her family to talk about Xavier Selwyn with, but then they'd started joking, and laughing, and having a nice time. She'd felt just like she had back in the day, when they would spend their Sundays making out in the Slytherin common room, and acting on her instinct she'd leaned in and brushed her lips on his.

Astoria wouldn't have done it if she'd known Draco was seeing someone.

It wasn't as if he had returned the kiss, considering he'd pushed her away the moment he'd realized what she was doing and then very hastily told her nothing was going to happen between them, so at least she wasn't an accomplice in cheating.

 _Just a very sad, very lonely, very stupid girl_.

She hoped she could count on Malfoy being discreet on the matter.

Unfortunately, the only thing she could bring herself to care about in this moment, was to stop by the bathroom before jumping into her bed.

 _The fucking wine had given her a headache_.

* * *

 ** _(Nott Manor: breakfast table – somewhere in Devon, England;_**  
 ** _October 26th, 2003, around 09:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

The first thing Theodore did every morning was drinking way too much coffee with way too much sugar, and read the _Daily Prophet_.

The journalistic level of the paper had dropped visibly over the past decade, but it was a habit he'd picked up when his mother was still alive, and he'd kept it even though it had been born out of imitating his father to get his praise.

 _The stupid things he'd done as a child_.

This morning of October the big issue of the Prophet was Kingsley's political moves since the beginning of his second term, but Theo skimmed the rest of the page for good measure.

Next to the results of the last couple days of Quidditch games and underneath the recipe for _Gullible Wrinkles_ was written in bold the name of his best friend.

* * *

* **Draco & Astoria! Split... and together again!** by *** _Rita Skeeter, read at page 6_.

" _Many of my dear readers already know the young Mr. Malfoy (23) for his past misdeeds as a follower of You-Know-Who or the recent (failed) attempt on his life. Perhaps you're just interested in the mystery of his half-muggle daughter, but what I've got for you today has to do with nothing of that_.

 _Today we talk about the dating life of Death Eaters. Unluckily for us, it doesn't seem to be eventful._

 _Draco Malfoy dated Ms. Greengrass (21) from his fourth to his sixth year at Hogwarts, when he allegedly broke up with the poor girl as he worked on his assignment from the Dark Lord: plotting the death of his Headmaster, Albus Dumbledore._

 _Many years have passed since then, and after getting himself a child from an unknown woman, it seems as if the heir of House Malfoy has fallen back into his ex girlfriend's arms._

 _However, it is too soon to tell if the flame is destined to burn much longer. The two also haven't made their first public appearance as a couple, yet, but I expect we'll hear about them again very soon._

 _Astoria really seems to be the perfect match for Mr. Malfoy, though someone might say he's perhaps a bit too lucky. Young, accomplished, beautiful, the woman is currently training at St. Mungo's to become a Healer. Perhaps her selfless tendencies will balance Draco's darker ones?_ "

* * *

And with that was a moving picture of just a couple of frames of his cousin placing her lips on Draco's.

Theo blinked at the Prophet and read the article again.

He couldn't believe such an amount of _bullshit_ could have been printed on such a restricted area.

 _A waste of paper_ , in any case.

The wizard picked up his phone and looked for Draco's name in his chats.

* * *

 **09:07 a.m.  
To**: Draco

" _WTF, Draco? Read the bloody Prophet_."

* * *

Theodore was pretty sure nothing was really going on between his friend and Astoria, but he needed to hear it from him before he could be totally convinced.

There was a chance, although very small, that his sister could be hurt by that article.

 _What if it was true_?

 _What was he going to say to Hermione after he'd promised her Draco was trustworthy_?

Then he remembered who the source was, and he felt a bit more relaxed. Rita Skeeter was famous for making up lies just to sell more copies.

But it wasn't only the woman's writing. There was a picture, too, and that could be interpreted in just one way: something had happened.

He just needed to find out _what_ exactly.

Hermione's voice startled him.

"Good morning, Theo. How come you're _brooding_ so early in the morning?"

She'd spent the night at the Manor because the two of them had been up until late reading their father's journals, but he hadn't expected her to come down so early for breakfast. She usually woke up extremely late when she didn't have to work.

"How come you're not still in bed?", he retorted. "Good morning to you, Hermione".

The witch took a seat in front of him, helping herself with some tea and biscuits.

She snuck out her tongue at him. "I've got some errands to run".

Theodore nodded and the conversation paused.

As he sipped his eyes kept falling on the copy of the Prophet half-hidden beneath his arm, where he'd casually placed it when Hermione had arrived.

She eventually noticed.

"What are you reading?", the witch asked.

"Quidditch results on the Prophet", he muttered.

" _Mh_ , I see. Mind if I check them for myself?"

Theo paled, but gave her the paper anyway.

There was no point in delaying this. The sooner it started the sooner it ended.

He just had to hope it didn't end in tragedy.

The sound of cutlery falling on the porcelain of the dish felt worse than nails on a blackboard.

" _WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?_ "

Hermione produced more noise than it was actually necessary as she raised from her seat barely two minutes after her arrival.

"Where are you going?", Theodore asked her.

She was already at the door when she answered. "Don't worry. _I'm just going to kick her ass_ ".

 _Splendid_ \- he thought, curious to know whom exactly she was referring to by " _her_ ".

 _Rita or Astoria_?

This problem had to wait. In less than a hour Theo had to be at the Ministry to file his official request for the Nott family's Wizengamot seat.

About that, he was excited.

* * *

 ** _(The Daily Prophet Headquarters – Diagon Alley, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 26th, 2003, around 09:20 a.m.)_**

* * *

The building that housed the infamous and dishonest paper she hated with a passion was nothing impressive, but quite menacing.

It was a single grey block with very little ornaments, rebuilt from the ashes of the old office.

Barely five years after the fire who'd erased it the first time, The Daily Prophet's facade already needed a touch up, though Hermione really couldn't tell if its state was due to the city's merciless weather or to the shortage of money the Ministry had been suffering since the end of the war.

The agreement between the paper and the government had been signed shortly after The Battle of Hogwarts to prevent situations like Harry's fifth year to arise again, but so far she thought of it as a failed attempt.

They were still printing theories rather than facts, prying into matters that weren't their concern and feeding lies to their readers about whatever scapegoat they hated at the moment. It was even worse, now, as the control over it the Ministry was clearly forgetting to put into action made it look as if it _endorsed_ whatever stupid thing they decided to write.

She realized the Minister had more pressing issues to deal with, but surely he couldn't have not noticed what was going on ever since Rita Skeeter had returned to the Prophet. It was below him not to realize what kind of influence the press had on the public opinion, so there had to be something else.

It was why she'd refused to meet him with him privately ever since her return. The wizard had invited her many times to come to his office, or even to his house, to catch up over some tea, but Hermione was dead set on avoiding the man she'd thought of as a mentor until he started fixing the mess wizarding Britain had become and undid some of the injustices he'd allowed the Wizengamot to pass over the last years.

She could have gone to the Ministry this very morning and discussed her current problem with him, but instead she'd opted for tackling the issue at its very root.

It was unfortunate the two apes at the main entrance were refusing to let her in.

"We cannot let you in without written permission from the editor, Ms. Granger", the taller guard repeated for the umpteenth time, making her feel as if she was back in Hogwarts and walking the hallways way past her curfew. "Step back, now. Please".

There wasn't an Auror badge on their uniforms, but a bow was woven into a circular background in twin patches on the black fabric that covered their elbows.

The Prophet had hired private security. She made a mental note to ask Harry about the symbol they'd sported as soon as she got the chance, then shot daggers at them with her eyes before she finally walked down the steps that from the main entrance brought her into the buzzing Diagon Alley once more.

Not the type to brag, in her humblest opinion WizVille topped the historical venue.

The wizarding neighborhood she'd personally designed had nothing to do with crumbling buildings, and it was an ode to the finest muggle art and architecture, a work of rational design she'd spent a lot of time on with the help of only the best magical constructors in the world.

As much as she enjoyed Diagon Alley, now that she'd grown out of her childish enchantment for magic and begun to think of it as just her nature, it was difficult for Hermione not to be painfully aware of its many flaws.

For starters, too many small lanes and courts flowed into it, providing many strategic escape routes to any witch or wizard whose intentions were not of the best kind. The shops were small, the buildings were probably not equipped to face fires and honestly it didn't surprise her it had been one of the Death Eaters' favourite places to attack.

It was so fucking easy.

As Hermione was reaching the bottom of the stairs, the noise of steps behind her distracted her from her musing, and instinctively she turned around, jaw dropping when met by a familiar face.

"Good morning, Professor", was the only thing she managed to say.

Technically Minerva McGonagall was Headmistress now, but Hermione still thought of her as her favourite teacher.

The older witch was wearing her distinctive plum autumn robes and had her long, grey hair tied up in a tight chignon.

She was just like she remembered her, and that applied to her smile, too.

"What an unexpected and welcome surprise, Ms. Granger", Minerva greeted. "Or should I call you Ms. Nott, now, perhaps?"

Her cheeks flushed a little. The witch's habit to go straight to the point hadn't disappeared either.

"Hermione will be fine", she suggested, although sheepishly. "For now. I'm afraid I'm currently in between names".

The Headmistress quirked an eyebrow, showing interest. "Perhaps something you'd like to discuss over a cup of tea?"

The brunette looked at the watch on her wrist before she nodded her consent.

"That would be lovely", she said. "I know a place not far from here that serves excellent pastries".

McGonagall tilted her head on one side, as if pensive.

"What about having tea in my office at Hogwarts?", was her counter-offer.

A grin spread spontaneously on the witch's face.

And so to Hogwarts they went.

* * *

 ** _(Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, Scotland;_**  
 ** _October 26th, 2003, around 09:20 a.m.)_**

* * *

The two witches floo-ed directly into the Headmistress' office from the Leaky Cauldron, but that didn't stop Hermione from rushing to the nearest window as soon as she was out of the fireplace.

Just as she'd suspected, the sight of the castle was extremely beneficial, even from the inside, and for a moment she forgot about everything that wasn't _it_.

Memories came rushing back, and for an abundant five minutes she stood there and admired the view, replaying in her mind the best and worst experiences of some of the most intriguing, despite everything, years of her life.

Back when she'd been so _innocent_ about what kind of hustle life really was.

McGonagall cleared her throat.

"Please, take a seat", she invited her, albeit a bit awkwardly.

" _Oh_. Of course". She rushed to the chair in front of the desk.

Normally she wouldn't sit with her back facing a door, and therefore _threats_ , but she couldn't possibly ask the Headmistress to give up her seat in her own office, could she?

She tried to distract herself by roaming the door with her eyes as the other witch produced a pot and two glasses and started pouring tea for both of them.

Minerva McGonagall seemed to like doing it with her hands rather than her wand.

She found it sweet for some reason.

Once they were both sipping from identical porcelain cups, the Headmistress eventually decided it was time they talked.

Her silence up until now had not surprised her. Hermione knew the older witch hated small-talk, and couldn't really disagree. She didn't enjoy it either.

"It was _bizarre_ to meet you in front of the Prophet", she prompted. "Were you there to protest the rubbish they label as journalism as well, dear?"

The brunette laughed at that. "Well, yes. They're getting ridiculous and they're getting away with it".

"This morning they printed the names and faces of some of my students", Minerva shared. "They committed a crime and they _will_ be punished accordingly. I managed to convince Kingsley to take the _educational_ approach and let them serve their sentence here at Hogwarts, keep this thing away from the spotlight. Now the _board_ wants them in Azkaban".

Hermione was flabbergasted. She could sense her interlocutor thought of the whole ordeal as unfair, but she needed more information before she could form her own opinion.

"What kind of crime have they committed?"

If she didn't know better, she could have sworn the Headmistress was blushing.

McGonagall took a generous sip from her tea. "Some of the students had a sort of _Pepper Up_ racket going on. It appears teenagers are getting high on that, nowadays. They started by selling the potions to other students, even the first years. Apparently it's been going on since the summer and they did their deliveries by owl, but things got _tricky_ when the term started".

"How did you find out?"

"Ingredients started disappearing from the greenhouses and Professor Longbottom noticed. _Wise boy,_ that one. He came directly to me", she answered. "Then I asked Horace if perhaps something similar was happening in the dungeons, and he admitted he'd been finding himself _misplacing_ stuff way too often lately to pin it on his age".

Hermione was actually sorry for the students caught up in the _Pepper Up_ mess, which in turn made her feel extremely weird: the girl she'd been would have been appalled, but the woman she was just thought of the ordeal as something vaguely amusing.

It was obviously very wrong to steal from the school, produce illegal potions and sell them as drugs, especially to the younger students, but still it wasn't something worth of Azkaban.

They were just misguided kids.

"I can only assume you were there to protest", the witch said. "May I ask how you managed to get inside the building?"

The Headmistress chuckled. "It wasn't easy. But a permission from the Minister seems to be enough to overrule that of a chief editor. It was pointless, though. The editor wasn't there, so I just gave to their secretary the complaint I presented to the Wizengamot this morning".

Hermione nodded, impressed.

Now more than ever she remembered why she'd been so fond of the Transfiguration teacher.

Perhaps it was time she had that meeting with Kingsley, after all.

"I won't let those sorry excuses for writers to ruin the lives of my students before they even begin".

Hermione had an awkward five minutes while trying to explain why _she_ had wanted to go into the Prophet. She mumbled something about the Prophet dragging dirt on her brother and herself all summer, and from there they shifted topics.

"So, speaking of your brother", Minerva started. "I was rather surprised when you made your announcement over the summer. It must have been quite traumatic to discover you are the daughter of a convicted Death Eater".

" _Traumatic_ might just be the perfect way to call it", she conceded. "When I returned their memories to my parents after the war, the spell that Cantankerus Nott placed on them came undone as well. They cut all ties with me after that. Then I woke up one morning and my eyes were blue. Five years later I discover I have a brother, someone I went to school with but who used to hang out with the people who bullied me. It's been a lot to take in, but I'm managing".

She added a smile.

It was the truth: as much as her head had been spinning over the summer with all the new truths she'd uncovered, finding out about Theo was one of the best things that had ever happened to her.

She wasn't alone in the world, anymore, and it gave her an inner peace she'd craved for a long time.

It was like her life was finally coming _full circle_ , so she wasn't going to complain about _that_.

"I'm glad to hear that", the Headmistress smiled back, setting her cup down on the desk. "I must admit that I was a little intrigued when Mr. Nott came to my office and asked me to set up a _reunion_ for the people of your school year".

"I still can't believe he did that", Hermione replied. "He spent years tracking me down".

"You must be very important to him", the other suggested. "Though it turned out to be an excellent idea for all of us. The castle is finally back to its old glory. It wouldn't have happened if you former students hadn't come and participated in the auction".

The night of the reunion had been common opinion that the school should have already been fixed five years after the war, and they were disappointed with the way the Ministry had dealt with the issue.

Been tight on money wasn't an excuse to leave the future of wizarding society to itself.

"I suppose a special thank you is in order", the Headmistress continued. "The money you donated really _made_ a difference. We were able to conclude the reparations before the beginning of the term".

"I'm happy to hear that", she admitted. "But you don't have to thank me. Money is not a problem and I think of Hogwarts as a great investment".

Minerva was about to add something else when one of the portraits hung behind her started calling her quite excitedly.

" _Headmistress_! _Headmistress_!"

He was an old man whose robes clearly placed him on a much older century.

" _Two students are dueling on the third floor!_ "

Professor McGonagall sighed. "I'm afraid we'll have to cut this short".

"You need not to worry, Headmistress. I'd like to take a walk around before I leave, if it's not too much of a disturbance. I really missed the castle".

"But of course you can", she smiled fondly. "Take all the time you need. Just perhaps try to be discreet, otherwise I'm not sure you won't be followed everywhere by the students. I can't do much to reign in those who have their free period and a passion for the so called _Golden Girl_ ".

Agreeing that she would avoid the side of the castle where most lessons were held, Hermione and the Headmistress left the latter's office together, and greeted each other where their paths divided.

The brunette took the stairs on the left, the ones which _changed_ , heading for the Great Hall, while McGonagall proceeded in the direction of the second floor.

"Hermione?", she called back when they were barely at a couple feet of distance.

"Yes?"

"You can call me _Minerva_ ".

* * *

After a long stroll around the Black Lake and a brief detour to the edge of the Forbidden Forest, Hermione gave one more look at the castle from afar before stepping outside the gate.

In the perimeter of the school apparition was not permitted, therefore she needed to get to Hogsmeade before she could leave Scotland.

As much as she would have liked to stay a bit longer, maybe spend a couple hours in the library and have a look at the Great Hall, not to mention the Room of Requirement, which she'd always wanted to study, right now she had more pressing issues to face.

Like the article who seemed to be placing _horns_ on her head.

She knew there had to be a perfectly logical explanation for the picture she'd seen on the paper (she didn't even bother reading the full article), but she needed to hear it from Draco.

Seeing the Prophet at breakfast had been a huge blow at her confidence.

So she was bracing herself for what happened next, but she wished not to delay it.

MagiTech's big event was just around the corner, and she had to deal with potential problems before the moment came and she needed to giver her full attention to it.

As soon as the first row of houses was in sight, Hermione turned on her spot and dis-apparated.

She landed outside the main gates of Malfoy Manor.

The wards seemed to have been adjusted recently, because they opened on their own, as if they recognized her.

They seemed to be different from those in her family's ancestral home, or the ones at the Burrow.

Walking fast on her heeled boots, the witch lost just a second contemplating Lucius' albino peacocks, who were currently refreshing their feathers in a small lake on one side of the garden.

They didn't seem all that elegant as they tripped over each other to get to the water.

She was at the main door in a matter of seconds, where a fully-clothed House-Elf welcomed her to the house and asked her to wait for a moment. The little creature reappeared after a minute or so, saying he'd escort her to the room where the Masters were having their breakfast.

She winced at the word Master, but thought better than to say something about it.

The Malfoy Elves were some of the more stubborn she'd ever met, which made Dobby, the black sheep, all the way more dear to her. As if saving her lives and that of her friends wasn't enough, mind you.

"Hermione, what a welcome surprise", Narcissa greeted her as soon as she set foot in the Manor's family parlour.

"Please, come take a seat", added Lucius.

The witch smiled nervously, fidgeting on the spot. " _Actually-_ ", she started, but the words died in her throat as she noticed that Harry was at the table, too.

He appeared to be busy with his bacon and eggs, but she could see the little smirk shadowing his lips. "Is there a problem, Hermione?", the Auror asked.

"No, nothing like that", she shook her head, and only then she noticed the copy of the Prophet laying on the table next to his forearm. "I was just wondering if perhaps I could speak with Draco?"

Averting her eyes from The-Boy-Who-Lived, the witch looked expectantly at Lucius and Narcissa.

"My son hasn't woken up yet", the blond wizard said. "I'm sure I can get one of the Elves to go fetch him for you, but may I ask what's the emergence?"

Lucius' expression was dangerously similar to Harry's, and she wondered if perhaps the man already knew about his relationship with Draco. He acted as if he did, though that was technically impossible.

She knew for a fact Draco wanted to wait a little before telling them.

It was the first time he had a serious relationship, the first time there was the possibility to introduce a girl he was dating to his parents. The thought terrified him and she couldn't really blame him: as aristocratic as they looked, Narcissa and Lucius could be a little embarrassing when it came to their heir. _Sweetly_ embarrassing, but still.

"There's just something I need to talk him about", she answered, vaguely. "Mind if I wake him up?"

The Malfoy matriarch seemed a bit startled by her request. She was probably thinking it wasn't good manners, or something along that line.

Lucius smirked again, and her cheeks blushed with anger. "Be my guest".

Harry downright laughed at her when she excused herself and exited the room, looking for the proper set of stairs that would lead her to Draco's private chambers.

The thing she hated about Manors was that they were simply _too big_ for an average of three people living in them.

It took her almost ten minutes to finally reach her destination, but when she did she wasn't so sure she was up for the confrontation anymore. Taking a deep breath, she knocked.

* * *

 ** _(Malfoy Manor: the East Wing, Wiltshire, England;_**  
 ** _October 26th, 2003, around 10:15 a.m.)_**

* * *

Having missed his alarm, Draco woke up a little later than he'd intended to that morning.

The night before he'd returned to the Manor as soon as he'd set foot outside of Astoria's apartment, still a bit fazed, and most part of the night he'd spent it disregarding his medicines and having a go at his father's personal stash of liquor.

As he opened his grey eyes and squeezed them shut again because of the vibrant light filling his bedroom, his first thought was that it hadn't been a good idea, to which followed a muttered curse when memories from the night before flowed back into his mind.

He couldn't believe Astoria had tried to _kiss_ him.

The blond had already tried to make a mental sum of the possible reasons that could have led the witch to make a move on him, and once more he came up empty-handed.

Of one thing he was sure: his friend's failed attempt hadn't been the reason she'd summoned him to his apartment.

He wouldn't have gone if he'd suspected such a thing.

Astoria had been approached by her biological father, a man she knew it existed but never thought of as real, and Draco had done his best to try and offer some comfort about her unlikely situation.

She'd always been a light drinker, so perhaps that was something he had to keep in mind as well.

With the way he'd treated her, there was no way she wanted to get back together.

 _But then why had she tried to kiss him, putting him in such a position_?

Nothing had happened, he'd pushed her back and told her he wasn't interested as gently as he could, but that didn't mean things could just go back to normal now.

 _What would Granger think if she was ever to find out_?

Was there really a chance he was going to sound _credible_ when telling her?

Draco conjured a mental picture of the conversation.

What was he supposed to say... _it's not how it looks_?

He thought of the excuse as the perfect way to get himself landed in St. Mungo's, only this time in the obituary.

Hermione Granger wasn't the type of woman you messed around with, voluntarily or not.

Groaning in his pillow, Draco raised to a sitting position and grabbed his phone from its spot on the nightstand.

There was a message from Theo from roughly an hour before, to which his best friend had sometime later attached a picture of the paper's article he was mentioning in the text.

* * *

 **09:07 a.m.**  
 **From** : Theodore Nott

" _WTF, Draco? Read the bloody Prophet_ ".

* * *

Draco couldn't believe his bad luck.

Beneath the title in bold characters, at the sight of witch he grimaced, was a picture that was painstakingly easy to _misinterpret_ , a picture of Astoria with her hands around his shoulders as she tried to lean in for a kiss that had never happened, faintly brushing her lips over his.

How did _that_ end up in the Prophet?

He couldn't believe there was a reporter so hellbent on ruining his life to follow him to a friend's home to shoot photos from outside a window, but when he glanced down once more at the screen and read who'd signed the article, the blond's surprise deflated all at once.

 _Of course_ it was Rita Skeeter.

Ready to get up from the bed, have his breakfast and find a way to disentangle himself from the mess, Draco thought better than to send Granger the usual _Good morning_ text.

She normally didn't read the Prophet, so there was a slimy chance he could at least tell her what had happened himself, rather than having her finding out from the papers.

His hope evaporated as there was a knock on his door, followed by a familiar voice.

" _Malfoy? Are you awake?_ "

She didn't sound particularly angry, so maybe she didn't know yet, but it could also have been just a tactic to get him to open the door and feast on his guts.

He'd learned a long time ago not to underestimate this particular witch.

" _Come in_ ", he sighed, resigned to his fate.

He prayed every illustrious Slytherin he knew not to lose her over Astoria's unpredictable whim.

The door opened in one swift movement, as if propelled by a spell, and when Hermione finally entered his bedroom her magic was cracking wildly around her.

She leaned on the doorstep and narrowed her eyes at him.

" _Granger_ ", he panted. " _I swear it's not how it looks_ ".

Only the little dignity he had left prevented him from slapping his own face as the words left his mouth.

Taken by panic, he'd said the very thing he'd promised himself not to.

He was surprised when the witch let out a small laugh.

"Trust me, Draco. I know _it's not how it looks_ ", she provoked. "You wouldn't be still in one piece, otherwise".

A lump formed in his throat, but the wizard managed to swallow it down.

His next move was going to be logical in the hopes she'd appreciate the honesty, so he resorted to merely share his account of the previous night with her in glistening detail.

There wasn't much else he could do with the Prophet forcing him to come clean about something he had yet to understand for himself.

"Like I told you yesterday, Astoria asked me if I could go to her place to talk over something that was clearly bothering her", he started. "Which she did. Her biological father showed up and she needed someone to talk about it with, so that's where most of our meeting went".

Hermione tapped her foot on the floor. "I'm currently more interested in how you got to _snog_ her".

"I did no such thing. _You have to believe me_ , Granger", he pleaded. "We were laughing about something when suddenly she became all serious and, well, then she tried to kiss me. I pushed her back as soon as I realized what she was doing, but obviously they wouldn't bother taking pictures of the part where I reject her".

" _I see_ ", the witch said, half-heartedly. She didn't sound too convinced, but she finally left her spot next to the door and walked to the bed, where she sat on his side. " _They are following you_ ".

"I thought so, too", Draco admitted, not daring to reach out with his hand to grab hers even as he was dying to do so. He _needed_ to know things were fine between them before he tried to do that. "But I can cope with that, as long as they don't manage to take you away from me".

He sounded more dramatic and borderline _sappy_ than he'd intended, but at least he was being honest.

The last thing he needed in his life right now was to lose her.

The Slytherin was pretty sure no Australian Healer could _fix_ him if that happened.

"It takes more than Rita Skeeter fabricating gossip to pull me out of your orbit, Malfoy", she reassured him, and this time the smile she gave him reached her eyes.

Squatting a little closer to him, Hermione grabbed both his hands and eyed him seriously.

"But I do feel like maybe you should talk to Astoria. You two were _together_ in our fifth year, weren't you? It was _longer_ than that", she tried to remember, frantically. " _Oh Merlin_ ".

Draco wasn't exactly following. " _What_?"

" _Do you think my cousin's still in love with you?_ "

Someone cleared their throat at that point, but Granger was too taken by her musings to notice, while her boyfriend was too busy trying to find the appropriate answer.

"Tell me I'm not the evil _witch-bitch_ who stole you and broke her heart", Hermione pleaded.

She seemed rather concerned with Astoria's feelings on the matter, rather than the fact he'd been photographed as he allegedly - _allegedly_ being the operative word - kissed someone else.

Draco didn't know if he should feel _lucky_ , _impressed_ or _offended_.

" _You're not an evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart_ ".

* * *

Just when they'd thought their breakfast couldn't get any more eclectic than it already was, the fireplace in the family parlour roared again, and Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy were startled by yet another unexpected appearance.

"I'm _so_ sorry to be bothering you, Mr. and Mrs. Malfoy", the newcomer greeted them, a nervous smile on her lips as she rushed into a poorly executed curtsy.

Narcissa's gaze lingered on the witch: her dress robes were wrinkled and her hair uncombed, but what really stood out the most were her red, puffy eyes. From the opposite side of the circular table, Lucius sent her a questioning glance, to which she replied with a subtle shrug.

"You're not bothering us, dear", she welcomed her guest. "But may I ask what brings you to the Manor in such a state of distress?"

Astoria bit her lip and glanced at Harry, who was still seating at the table with them and pretending to be particularly interested with the bottom of his cup of coffee.

Feeling three different sets of eyes on him, the Auror finally looked up and cleared his throat.

"Well, it's best if I start working", he announced. "Thank you for the breakfast".

Potter kissed Narcissa on the back of the hand, as Andromeda had taught him was _proper_ , quickly nodded at Lucius and feigned a smile in the young witch's direction.

With that, The-Boy-Who-Lived went on his merry way.

 _He swore on Godric, breakfasts at the Manor were the best_.

As soon as Harry was out of the room, the young Greengrass seemed to regain some of her confidence, and she straightened her back before she spoke again.

" _I really need to talk to Draco_ ".

"I can't say I am _surprised_ of your visit", Lucius, the only one of Draco's parents who'd already read the Prophet this morning, drawled. "Though your timing may not be the best".

Narcissa was little taken aback by her husband's statement: there was something he knew which she ignored, and it didn't sit well with her very curious self. Eager to rectify the fact, she raised a hand and indicated the hallway.

"He hasn't come down for breakfast yet, but Hermione came here with a very similar request not too long ago. I'm sure he's up and dressed already", she said.

" _Jingle_!", Lucius called for one of the Elves. "Show Mrs. Greengrass the way to Draco's room. _Please_ ".

The Lady of the Manor beamed with pride.

Her husband still struggled to adjust to their new way of living, which mostly entailed being honest people and respecting the law, even those who were at the other end of the spectrum from the education they'd both received as Purebloods.

To watch him spontaneously being kind to an Elf made something in her insides squirm with delight.

Her son was so _not_ right about Lucius. He _was_ redeemable.

" _I- Thank you_ , Lord Malfoy. _I'll-_ I'll be on my way, then", Astoria bid them goodbye. " _Lady Malfoy_ ".

She was gone before either of them could reply.

Narcissa turned to face her husband, arching one brow.

"Is there something you would like to share?"

Lucius smirked before he passed the paper he'd been reading earlier to his wife.

There was sheer amusement in his grey eyes when he talked.

" _Page six_ , Cissy", he instructed. "It appears our son isn't as _hopelessly celibate_ as we thought".

It took only two minutes for the witch to read the entire article, _twice._

Draco's romantic life was something the couple was discussing more and more since their son had passed his twenties and Lucius had finally returned home, but what little clues they'd recently put together thanks to the small changes in his routine and behaviour did not point at Astoria Greengrass. _At all_.

 _"I don't understand_ ", Narcissa professed.

Lucius nodded, somewhat solemnly. "Me neither".

Although Draco had never personally told them about his affair with the witch as a teenager, they knew the two had had a relationship: they'd started suspecting it after he'd retrieved from the Malfoy vault an old heirloom they'd then seen on the girl's ears during the _Summer Gala_ after their son's fourth year, and then they'd found the couple _snogging_ in her gardens a couple hours later.

He'd told her about it only years after they'd broken off things, but from what she knew and had shared with her husband, it wasn't very likely the two could ever _backfire_.

"Well, I don't really _fancy_ being kept in the dark...", Narcissa trailed off, suggestively.

Lucius studied her expression for a moment. In his wife's eyes there was a gleam that reminded him of their time in the Slytherin dorms, where she'd seduced him with her _cunning_ even more than she'd done with her exceptionally good looks.

Whatever she was plotting right now, he wanted _in_.

"What do you suggest we do, dear?"

The woman shrugged nonchalantly. "Perhaps you could escort me to the small library, my love. I'm almost positive I have forgotten one of my favourite novels there".

He knew for a fact Narcissa walked into that room less than twice a year, preferring the main library on the ground floor, but it happened to be in Draco's wing of the Manor.

Now understanding what his wife was hinting at, Lucius rose from his seat and offered her his arm.

Gracefully, the witch accepted the proffered arm and nudged him outside of the family parlour, from where they rushed through the hallways of the Manor using a route only someone as accustomed to such a large house as they were could come up with.

It wasn't the shortest, but it was the one that granted them _discretion_.

They didn't want to be seen sneaking around their own home by the Aurors, but at the same time they also didn't wish to cross paths with Astoria and Jingle, or to be caught red-handed by Draco as they meddled and pried into his personal life.

Their course of action proved to be the right one, because as they turned the last corner and arrived from her left, they managed to notice Mrs. Greengrass' hiding spot behind a column, and to find one for themselves.

A voice, Hermione's, removed their focus from Astoria and brought it to the scene unfolding before their eyes.

" _ **Do you think my cousin's still in love with you**?_"

" _Well, this is bound to be interesting_ ", Narcissa whispered in his ear. "Seems like someone's about to buy me that _tiara_ we've seen in Manchester".

The two had on-going bet that was based entirely on their mutual conviction of what a great couple Draco and Hermione would have made.

According to Cissy they were already past the stage of underlying sexual tension and something romantic had definitely happened between them, while her husband was more cautious in his judgement: as much as he believed the two were well-suited and had undeniable chemistry when not at each other's throats, with their past and the animosity that sometimes still re-emerged when their opinions diverged, Lucius believed it was going to take some time before they got there.

"Should I remind you it's _crass_ to cheer before victory, dear?"

The woman stamped on his foot. He was about to retort when Astoria, who'd left her hiding place, cleared her throat and stepped into Draco's bedroom.

" ** _Tell me I'm not the evil witch-bitch who stole you and broke her heart_** ".

As Lucius mentally prepared to say goodbye to _four-thousand-sixteen_ Galleons, _one_ Sickle and _two_ Knuts, Narcissa hid her chuckle on his shirt, wondering if she could get him to buy her the matching necklace, too.

Her daydreams of jewelry were interrupted by what was said next.

" ** _You're not the evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart_** ".

It was their cue to leave.

Now that they knew their son wasn't _hopelessly celibate_ , as Lucius had put it, and that no girl was getting her heart broken inside of Malfoy Manor, it was time they stopped being _concerned parents_ before they turned into _stalkers_.

The wizard smirked. "Off to Manchester, I suppose. _Shall we_?"

* * *

"You're not the evil witch-bitch who stole Draco and broke my heart".

Astoria drew a sharp breath and smiled nervously at the two people in the room.

It was more of a grimace, but they were too startled by her sudden appearance to really notice.

It took them a moment to react: Draco was the first to recover, and he looked at her with widened eyes.

"Astoria", he called. "What are you doing here?"

"Hello, cousin", Hermione greeted her as well, albeit awkwardly.

He supposed it was only fair: the fact she had a forgiving nature didn't mean she wasn't one pissed off witch.

"Hermione, hi", the Greengrass replied, her cheeks now red.

As much as she'd known she was about to face them both before entering the room, the woman was now realizing just how difficult this conversation was really going to be.

What could she possibly say to justify her actions?

Truth be told, she wasn't aware of their relationship when she'd made her move on Draco, having not been present when the news had been shared with their circle of friends, but she still felt terrible about what she'd done.

Her older cousin's friendship was one she'd grown to value just as much as she did Theo's, while Malfoy was one of her oldest friends and she'd stopped loving him romantically a long time ago.

The night had brought her advice, and her time with Pansy that morning had helped her shed some light on the current situation, but that didn't mean she wasn't embarrassed to share what she'd found out with them.

It made her sound positively pathetic.

"I am so, so sorry", she started. "And I apologize, with both of you".

The two were still sitting next to each other on his side, their hands intertwined, and Astoria was surprised when she noticed it didn't hurt her in any way to see them like that.

Her only wound was the one on her pride, but she had only herself to blame for it.

"I hope you believe me if I say I had no idea you two were a thing", the witch continued. "Otherwise I swear I would have kept my hands to myself".

Hermione's expression softened a little at that.

"I know that", she said. "I know you would never hurt me on purpose, Tori. We may have not been acquainted with each other for long, but I think I know what kind of person you are. That's not at all what I'm concerned about".

The Slytherin witch gaped at her. "It's not?"

"Nope", the other confirmed, lingering on the p. "I've been debating for some time if I should have talked to you about my, uh- Relationship with Draco. I knew you had history, but it's been some time now, and we were trying to keep it under wraps. I'm afraid I was a bit selfish in my choice".

On her side, Draco snorted. Under normal circumstances she'd have swatted him on the arm, but she knew she'd deserved this type of reaction: he'd never seemed bothered by the idea of other people finding out about them.

She, on the contrary, had done everything in her power to keep it a secret, but he couldn't really blame her for her trust-issues, either, now could he?

"You were absolutely entitled to your privacy, Hermione", Astoria rebuked. "I should have just bought myself The Monthly Basilisk like any normal witch with urges to tackle without a partner".

If possible, she looked even more flushed and flustered now that she had at her arrival.

Her eyes were stubbornly focused on the tip of her shoes, and her hands were fidgeting with the hem of her dress robes. Standing in front of the double-poster bed, shoulders hunched, she looked exceptionally small.

"I may be entitled to my privacy, but I still wish I'd talked to you about it".

There was a tiny bit of guilt in Granger's voice, a sentiment the wizard had a hard time trying to place correctly.

Then he remembered how much Gryffindors were prone to masochism.

Of course she would try to soothe Astoria's conscience by taking some of the blame herself. His theory was confirmed just moments later.

"I'm sorry if my involvement with Malfoy hurt you", she apologized. "I never meant to".

At that Draco almost fell from bed, while Astoria erupted in laughter.

"Oh. My. Circe", she sputtered between giggles.

Granger turned to him with questioning eyes only to find hilarity on his face as well.

"Care to explain what's so funny?", she asked to no one in particular.

It had been ingrained in her that when people were laughing and she wasn't it had to a case of mockery, and this time there was no difference. Now it was Draco's time to feel guilty. He'd helped immensely to achieve that.

"I was thinking, and so was probably your cousin, that it's positively Gryffindor of you to try and ease her sense of guilt by placing the responsibility of what happened on yourself", he said.

Astoria nodded. "Really, you don't need to. I feel guilty because I made a mess, but you're not hurting me by dating Draco. Now that I think about, you're actually quite the perfect match, and I wish you guys all the best. Again, I'm sorry I unknowingly jeopardized that".

"Your apology is accepted, but unnecessary", Hermione smiled at her. "You didn't know we were together, and I can't certainly call myself a feminist if I berate another woman for making a move on a man she thinks it's available".

The air was less tense now, and the younger witch tried to crack a joke.

"I'm not sure I wouldn't have berated myself, though", she said before turning her eyes on the wizard. "No offence here, Draco, but had you been single and something happened last night, I'm positive I would have regretted it immensely".

"None taken". The blond raised his hands, gesturing things were fine between them, but Tori wasn't done yet.

"Like I said, my life has been particularly tumultuous lately, and last night I felt exceptionally lonely. Draco just happened to be there", she explained. "What happened between us when we were kids has been long put in my drawer of memories, and I never wished to re-open it. It was just a momentary slip. The boy I was in love with has very little in common with the man you're dating now, cousin, and I do really wish you all the best".

"Then that's sorted", Hermione nodded. "I'm glad we talked about this".

Rising from the bed, she walked the distance between Astoria and herself and hugged the witch.

"Now, wouldn't it be a perfect time for you to kiss", teased Draco, hands propped behind his head.

The only sound that was heard next, besides from two witches giggling, was that of a body who got levitated with magic and dumped on the floor.

All was well what ended well. Sort of.


	35. BELIEVER

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**. You can also find me as **slytherinsauce** on both **tumblr** and **pinterest** with more content dedicated to this story. Beware of spoilers.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : hello there! It's finally time for our guys have that trip to Australia. I'm not going to be long in this notes because I actually want to use the time to move forward with the story (I'm currently writing chapter 40th), but there's something I wanted to address even though the story is rated M; **if you're uncomfortable with smut** and do not wish to read the sex scene in this chapter (I was high and it just came out _AND IM NOT BLUSHING YOU ARE BLUSHING, KAREN_ ) **skip the fourth sequence** and go directly to Theo at the Ministry of Magic. I hope you enjoy the new chapter!

* * *

 **35.**

 **BELIEVER**

 **.**

* * *

" _I reckon immaculate, sound about accurate_  
 _I know that strength, it don't come without strategy_  
 _I know that sweet, it don't come with cavities_  
 _I know that passages come with some traffic_  
 _I start from the basement, end up in the attic_

 _(...) is you a believer?_  
 _I get a unicorn out of a zebra_  
 _I wear my uniform like a tuxedo_

 _(...) I know that bloomin' don't come without rain_  
 _I know the losin' don't come without shame_  
 _I know the beauty don't come without, uh_ "

* * *

 ** _(Victoria Street n. 23, The Penthouse - WizVille, London, England;  
October 27th, 09:00 p.m.)_**

* * *

The group met up at Hermione's place sometime before dinner, which they consumed together as many suitcases surrounded the table in her dining room.

She seldom got a chance to use it, usually eating her meals by herself or with little company, and mostly outside the house, but it was nice to see it packed with friends for a change.

The only downside of their impromptu Australian holiday was that Luna and her brother weren't able to join her, but overall what waited for the witch were two days of basking in the sun and having fun with some of the people she cared about the most.

Once she got back to England she had to pour all her energies in MagiTech's upcoming launch, a night she dreaded, and she was excited at the idea of postponing the thought for a bit longer.

Hermione Granger was extremely scared of the way her company was going to be perceived, well aware of how little wizarding Britain was open to change and innovation. It liked to stick to old traditions and antiquated beliefs, crushing down or making an outcast of those who didn't impersonate their stiff doctrine.

She'd had her fair share of magical bigotry, thank you very much.

As Hermione Granger she'd been fully exposed to what large part of the community thought of Muggleborn wizards and witches, while as Eloise Nott - the two coexisted - she was experiencing the discrimination Purebloods had been subjected to since the end of the war.

The public opinion didn't seem to realize there ought not to always be an oppressor and a victim, that people could live next to one another and respect each other's freedom, and both the politics and the press seemed more than happy to encourage this attitude.

Surveying the space around her, she couldn't help but to focus on Pansy, who just tonight had arrived with her last shipment of hate mail, some regarding her shop and some about her relationship with Harry.

Ever since the two had been spotted together the paparazzi had exploited every chance they got to stalk them, and gossip magazines often featured ominous speculations on how the pair had come to be.

After they'd announced their engagement, things had blown out of proportion.

It was the opinion of the majority she was dosing The-Boy-Who-Lived with Amortentia to ride the wave of his popularity, and though Pansy usually played it down as _bitches being bitches_ , Hermione knew her best friend too well not to know she was actually bothered by it.

She could understand why.

Every since she'd returned to her motherland the press had started haunting her, too, throwing allegations and fabricating impossible theories, ultimately making her question her choice to leave Australia, if temporarily, on a daily basis.

It wasn't as if the press was above certain behaviours in the southern hemisphere, but having dealt with them as Victoria Sallow, an identity she'd built specifically for the spotlight, journalists and photographers had known of her only what she had wanted them to, and things had been overall more easily manageable.

"I can't believe we're actually leaving for Australia in a hour", Ginny mused, setting aside what was left of her second slice of cake. "We should eat Pansy's brownies more often".

"Decisions taken when you're stoned are the best decisions", Harry nodded approvingly.

He received more than one dubious glance: there was Blaise, who in his time in the muggle world had one night been so high he'd gotten a smiling emoji _tattooed_ on his _ass_ , and on the other side of the table sat Draco, who in similar circumstances had once decided to try and hit on the girlfriend of a muggle gang member and then returned home with both his eyes black and a broken rib.

Hermione raised her flute of champagne at him. "I'll have to second that".

" _My, my_. Listen to yourself, _Prefect_ Granger", Ginny teased.

"What would McGonagall say?", Draco backed her up.

Hermione raised up her chin, defiantly. "She'd say I'm right, obviously. You could say all my money comes out of a giant _bake sale_ , if you can catch the drift".

"Ten points to Gryffindor, ladies and gentlemen", Harry came to her aid.

"I can work with that", Ginny shrugged before she raised her flute as well. "To Gryffindor!"

Blaise brought a hand to his heart, sighing dramatically. "Oh, my poor wounded heart".

Pansy patted him on the shoulder, sympathetically. "Unluckily, without Theo and Luna to mess with our numbers, it's three of each for the time being".

Everybody's gaze fell on the seventh person in the room.

Draco's daughter was currently napping peacefully in a mini sofa they'd conjured not far from the table and surrounded with a Bubble Charm that was making sure they didn't wake Adhara up with their banter.

Zabini's pout grew deeper as he turned to Draco. "No way she's a snake".

"Or a lion", Pansy added. "There's a limit as to how far an apple can fall from the tree".

"Father would most definitely have a _stroke_ ", Malfoy noted. "I can't believe I'm saying it, but perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if she was to become a disciple of Godric".

Quite obviously, his voice was laced with sarcasm. It was just difficult to assign it to its element (the stroke or Gryffindor?), which made the joke all the more funny.

"A child of mine in Slytherin is almost inevitable", Harry mused.

Three pair of Slytherin eyes were suddenly on him.

Ginny and Hermione, who already knew where he was going with that, laughed.

"What makes you think so, Potter?", asked Zabini, sounding genuinely intrigued.

"The Sorting Hat wanted to place me in Slytherin at first", he shared.

It wasn't something he usually liked to think about, to the point he'd kept the detail out of his best-selling autobiography, but the words were coming out of him naturally. Of course good and bad wizards had come out of every one of the four Hogwarts Houses, but any time Salazar's was mentioned the first thing that came to his mind was Voldemort, followed by the Basilisk who'd almost killed his best friend.

"He said I could be great, and that it was all in my head", Harry said, tapping a finger on his temple. "Then I just kept begging the Hat not to put me in there until it actually listened".

By this point a second round of champagne was poured into the glasses for those who wanted it.

Having to go to MagiTech's private clinic as soon as they got to Australia, Draco and Hermione refused.

The witch rose from her seat, graciously sending the dirty dishes and leftovers to the kitchen with a simple gesture of her hand.

The only reason she still used her wand from time to time was that she didn't want potential enemies to be able to calibrate the extent of her powers, but day after day it was becoming increasingly difficult to remember to take it out of her pocket for trivial things that in reality she could accomplish with just a thought.

"I'm going to make sure the PortKey is ready for our departure. Meet me downstairs with your luggage as soon as you're ready", she excused herself.

Picking up her own suitcase, she preceded her friends in the PentHouse's basement, where she was joined by the others barely ten minutes later as she was still checking the PortKey's parameters.

As soon as she was done, she hushed them inside the cabin, where she pressed one last bottom before bracing herself for the trip.

She managed an encouraging smile at Draco, who had his still sleeping daughter inside of a baby sling he kept on his chest, before the magic swallowed them whole.

* * *

 ** _(Council of Magic, Sydney, Australia;_**  
 ** _October 28th, 2003, around 09:10 a.m.)_**

* * *

Wizarding Australia diverged immensely from its British equivalent.

It was subject to the Statute of Secrecy, too, and a few other laws from the International Confederation of Wizards that applied no matter where you were in the world, but that was about it. Anything else was dealt with differently on this side of the planet.

For starters, the edge between Light and Dark magic was way blurrier than it was in England, and attention was placed on _intention_ rather than one's spell of choice. Sometimes, you could be incarcerated for an improper use of _Alohomora,_ but still get away with an _Avada_ if it had been a reasonable case of _self-defence_.

In the United Kingdom every town with a considerably sized population possessed some sort of magical neighborhood, and though not many of them could rival with Diagon Alley for extent or economic prowess, places where magical beings could go about their lives without ever encountering muggles were scattered pretty much all over the state, smaller islands included.

They followed the Statute with a rigor that was rare elsewhere in the world, still wary because of the witch-hunts who'd decimated the magical population in previous centuries.

Scholars had never managed to discover if muggles were descendants of ancient wizards and witches who'd lost their connection to magic, or if wizards were merely muggles who'd found that connection and distanced themselves from those who didn't.

Australia had never needed to guess about it.

Before the arrival of muggle colonizers in the seventeenth century the indigenous people had lived side by side regardless of what their status was, cooperating and trying to make the most out of what little the land had to offer to them.

There were gifted people, and people who were not.

Nobody really cared as long as everyone was sheltered and had a full belly.

It hadn't been long after _James Cook_ 's arrival that things had started to change.

The muggles who started coming to the continent were nothing like the natives, and soon a separation of sorts was needed. The scientific method made many of their costumes or farming techniques inexplicable, and muggles were always afraid of what they couldn't understand.

Even when violence escalated and wizards and witches were killed because of their _otherness_ , the drift between the magical and non magical population wasn't as profound as it had been in other countries.

They simply couldn't picture a separation so neat you couldn't coexist in both worlds.

Wizards had started hiding their magic, confining it to the privacy of their own homes, and the wizarding side of Sydney, one of the biggest magical cities in the world, had been built.

In the following century magical people had started to move to Australia, too, and they'd discovered the existence of the Statute of Secrecy, which had been signed in 1689 and made official three years later, with nobody asking for their consent or opinion.

At first, they tried to fight both the Statute and the Confederation, which, _again_ , they had never given their adherence to, but when the Salem trials happened a couple years later people had surrendered to facts: it was in their best interest to protect their gift.

It was not as if they hadn't stopped practicing magic in public, already.

The regulation of Australian magical transportation came with a set of rules so extensive it was very easy to break one by coincidence.

Apparition points were scarce throughout the country and they required special permission outside of the magical side of Sydney, so the majority of wizards and witches used the Council's _PortKey network_ for their travels.

As impressive as the system had already been five years ago, when Hermione had first moved there, stepping out of her specially reserved Portkey landing point she couldn't help but have her chest filled with pride as she spotted MagiTech's logo pretty much everywhere in the room.

As soon as she'd found a way to stabilize the magic involved in the transits, she'd set out on creating permanent _PortKeys_ , objects that wouldn't de-activate upon using, but who could be reprogrammed from time to time to get the user to different locations.

Pansy and the others followed suit and left the cabin, entering the network's lobby.

As much as the Slytherin witch didn't regret her choice to return to England, she had missed the place who'd took her in and helped her lick her wounds for three years, when she'd finally got rid of her toxic family and the nonsense they stood for.

In Australia she'd felt _free_ for the first time and it was a memory she truly cherished.

She had no sneaky remark for Harry when he placed a hand on the small of her back, drawing her close, and used the other to wipe away a solitary tear from her left cheek.

" _The Council of Magic is pleased to welcome you back to Sydney, Mrs. Sallow_ ".

The man who'd talked was around his fifties, short in stature and with a very prominent nose, on top of which was perched a pair of reading spectacles.

He'd been assigned to Hermione's personal Portkey years before, and over time the witch had come to appreciate the dedication he put into his work. His paperwork was punctual and precise and, unlike some of his colleagues, he managed to look professional and not like a gaping fish when dealing with the most influential woman in Australia, wizarding and muggle alike.

Her technology had entered the market and revolutionized it, while the _secrecy clauses_ and consequential silencing and binding spells that every _MagiTech_ employee had to sign up upon being hired had managed to keep her competitors at bay.

There was just so much they could accomplish with their traditional exploitation of magic.

"I'm Lachlan Taylor and I work for the Immigration Office. _Welcome to Australia_ ", the short man continued, now addressing the others. "The law requires registration for first time visitors..."

He trailed off, producing a piece of parchment with his wand and glancing down at it.

"If _Mr. Malfoy_ , _Mr. Potter_ , _Mrs. Weasley_ and _Mr. Zabini_ would temporarily consign me their wands, please, it shouldn't take longer than a couple of minutes", Lachlan said, reading their names from the paper. "You're free to wait in the cafeteria, if you wish, Mrs. Parkinson. Your _visa_ has been stamped already".

Pansy nodded at him, but gave no sign of considering the option, standing right by Harry's side as the four newcomers drew out their wand and passed them to Mr. Taylor one at a time, who checked them thoroughly before signing up their information on his roll of parchment.

In the wizarding world, your wand was your identity card.

According to the Council's employee it wasn't required for Adhara to be registered, but he recommended they did _just in case_. Otherwise, if anything untoward happened, the toddler wasn't going to be able to access the national healthcare system.

Since the one in Sydney was the only entirely magical area in the continent, registrations at the Ministry were transferred, albeit modified to fit the Statute, to the muggle government.

The measure had been endorsed to prevent the magical folk to go about the country and commit crimes where it would have been harder to apprehend them.

For this very reason, every police station in Australia had an undercover and highly trained wizard in its ranks, a figure easily comparable to that of an Auror. Their main purpose was to keep the order while preserving secrecy, and according to the official data the system worked wonderfully.

As soon as Zabini's generalities were written down, Lachlan rolled up the parchment and smiled brightly at the baby cradled in Malfoy's arms. "Now, if this little girl is ready to register".

He seemed to have a soft spot for children.

Having no idea of what documents were, not to mention the meaning of the word _registration_ , Adhara glanced up at her dad to determine whether or not she should accept the hand this very short wizard was offering her.

When Draco nodded, taking a couple of steps towards Mr. Taylor, his daughter elongated her small right arm and observed with fascination as the wizard grabbed her index finger and placed it on the parchment, where strange symbols she vaguely recognized started appearing thanks to her touch.

It was only a couple months since she'd started talking, therefore her reading lessons with Granny Cissa were just at the beginning. She beamed proudly when she distinguished her own name among the other words.

" _Adhara Malfoy_ ", she chanted, confidently.

The adults with her showered her with compliments, and by the time they were done Lauchlan Taylor was ready to bis his farewell.

"Everything's gone according to plan", he announced, returning the wands to their owners and vanishing the parchment with another flick of his wand. "I hope you'll have a pleasurable stay. If there's anything you need, the Council of Magic will be glad to help you".

He made a curtsy in their direction, eyes lingering on Hermione.

"As always, it's been a pleasure to _serve_ you, Mrs. Sallow. _Ladies_ , _gentlemen_ ".

His final greeting was professional and abrupt, just what they were hoping for, and soon he disappeared around a corner, ready for his next visitors to register.

Only then Draco realized he'd been holding his breath.

Taking Adhara out of her baby sling, he put his daughter on the more than capable hands of Aunt Pansy, who escorted her to the previously mentioned cafeteria to get some ice-cream.

Perhaps it wasn't healthy, considering the child's biological clock was tuned to England and therefore, for all her body knew, it was the middle of the night.

The wizard cleared his throat, uncomfortably. " _Oi_ , Potter".

"Yeah?"

"Why do you think he let us go so quickly?", he asked.

Harry wiggled his eyebrows. "I'm not sure what's the question".

"Well, it's not like my record is _immaculate_ ", the blond supplied, lowering his voice so that nobody else could hear him. It was common knowledge, but he still dreaded public scrutiny.

"I have no idea how the law works outside of England", Potter shrugged.

Hermione, who'd been pretended not to listen up until that point, decided it was better if she intervened and squashed his insecurities as they presented themselves.

"They don't know much about the war, here", she explained. "News came late and with little detail. Most people wouldn't even know who _Voldemort_ was. You have nothing to fear, Malfoy".

The Slytherin gritted his teeth, but before he could think of the proper way to tell Granger he wasn't afraid _per se_ , but only of the possibility some crazy Australian Auror would try and do him harm while he was in a foreign country and with his daughter in tow.

She seemed to read his mind. "Nothing will happen. I promise".

"And if something does happen, Malfoy, there are four of us here who will have your back and your child's. Five when Pansy returns from the cafeteria", Harry added.

Uneasy silence fell between the three, who were now feeling a bit more defensive and scrutinizing the space around us, but Blaise and Ginny, who hadn't listened to their conversation, didn't notice.

"What do you suggest we do first?", the red-headed asked, understandably excited.

The last time she'd had a trip for pleasure had been after her first year at Hogwarts, when the Weasleys had traveled to Egypt to visit Bill, who at the time worked there, but in the following summers the family hadn't been able to afford another vacation.

Once Ginny had started making her own (copious) money with the Harpies, training sessions and Quidditch tournaments had prevented her from ever leaving the United Kingdom. Until now.

Technically she'd been to Hermione's island not too long ago, but that hardly counted.

It had been a _rescuing mission_ , not a journey of pleasure.

"Pansy's in charge of the schedule for the first half of the day, which means you'll probably spend most of your time in her favourite boutiques, but knowing you I'd ask her to see the Quidditch Stadium", Hermione suggested. "If Draco's visit doesn't take too long, you can join us around lunch and I'll give you a tour of MagiTech's Headquarters if you want".

Blaise grinned. "I'll definitely be taking advantage of that".

The Slytherin had been following her company practically since day one, gathering information and wishing their products would be sold in England, and it was now a pretty much established fact that he was one of its biggest fans.

"I had no doubts", the witch chuckled. "If I feel generous I may even show you _the secret lab_ ".

Pansy returned in that moment.

"There was a bit of a line, but nothing I couldn't overcome by flashing my badge", she said, indicating the stamp pinned to her shirt as she juggled with the baby cradled in her arms, currently intent on slurping on her strawberry ice-cream cone.

Underneath the same logo that was on the Portkeys around them, her name and titles were written in black over the white background: _Pansy Parkinson, Head of Public Relations_.

Hermione's eyes narrowed, but before she could reprimand her friend an alarm set out on her phone. It was almost time for Draco's appointment with the Healer.

"I'm afraid we'll have to split now", she said. "We'll see you guys later".

The brunette waited patiently as Draco calmed Adhara's fit.

The toddler wanted to stay with her father, and only the mention of a _carousel_ convinced her to give her hand to Uncle Blaise and listen to reason.

From there their paths diverged, and while Draco and Hermione rushed down the hallways to get to the exit, the others walked at a less frantic pace as Pansy started listing their activities for the morning.

An awful amount of shopping seemed to be involved, but nobody could accuse her of having thought just of herself: a visit to the Stadium was already in schedule along with a session of _wand-surfing_ she knew Harry and Blaise were going to absolutely adore.

She hadn't gone as far as to plan lunch, hoping by then they'd be reunited with the rest of the group.

Smiling brightly as she took in the sights of magical Sydney, Pansy's only thought was that an awesome two days were ahead of her. She kissed her boyfriend _hard_ on the mouth.

* * *

 ** _(Healers of Tomorrow, Sydney, Australia;_**  
 ** _October 28th, 2003, around 10:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

As soon as they'd exited the Council and entered the buzzing alley Granger had grabbed him by the hand and dis-apparated them both without any warning, causing the blond to land less gracefully than he would have liked right in the middle of a lobby that wasn't much different from any other hospital he'd ever been to, magical or muggle.

Draco was about to say something about her lack of _poise_ , but the room fell completely silent.

All eyes were on them, or rather on the witch on his side, and the looks they were receiving reminded him of his childhood. Years before Hogwarts, and the _war_ , people used to stare at Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy as if they were practically wizarding royalty every time they showed up in public, and he grimaced at the memory of how _powerful_ and _respectable_ it used to make him feel.

Of one thing was sure. Nobody did that anymore.

Hermione tugged at his hand. "This way", she instructed.

He gave it a light squeeze, following her without questioning.

It was the first time she held his hand outside of the muggle world, and even though he'd never been too fond of the practice, a smug smile made its way to his lips as his chest inflated with something akin to pride.

It wasn't _any_ bloke who got to stake that kind of claim on the woman beside him.

If _She_ found him worth it, then perhaps he wasn't quite the _waste of space_ he sometimes thought he was.

"Good morning, Mrs. Sallow", greeted the man behind the desk, reverently. "What can I do for you today?"

"Good morning to you, Samuel", she replied, leaning forward to read his name on the badge pinned to his chest. "I've scheduled an appointment with Healer Singh".

The secretary nodded, typing something on the keyboard of his computer.

"Yes, yes. _Of course_ ", he sputtered. "Mr. Malfoy, complete _post trauma_ check-up...", his eyebrows furrowed, as if it was the first time he read that particular line on his desktop, "...And _physiatric_ inspection. Healer Singh is already waiting for you. Seventh floor, room three".

Draco remained quiet as Hermione — or rather, _Victoria_ , as she was currently impersonating her billionaire alter-ego — confirmed the reservation and was handed a piece of paper with his name and a bar-code printed on it.

Glancing around the spacious room, he noted the plaque on the wall, just above the lifts, where the name of the building, _Healers of Tomorrow_ , was finely engraved in handwriting.

It was the same name she'd given to the private clinic that would open in WizVille after MagiTech's launch party, an alternative to St. Mungo's he felt was much needed.

A biased government was awful enough without throwing a prejudiced hospital in the mix.

Hermione waited for the doors of the lift to close before she turned to him, her hand still hidden in his much bigger one.

"Are you ready?", she asked, softly.

The blond forced a smile. He was a little concerned about the outcome of the examination, now that he thought about it.

" _Yeah_ , sure", he lied. "Just can't wait to be done with this thing and enjoy the rest of my time here".

He paired the line with his trademark saucy wink, but the witch ignored it, too focused on studying his expression to notice.

Just as he thought he couldn't keep up his _devil-may-care_ attitude much longer, Draco was saved by the lift as a _Ding!_ echoed in the small space and the metal screeched when the doors opened.

Once more he followed her silently, eyes fixed on her legs as she confidently strolled down the hallway.

It was currently summer in Australia, as she'd written at least a dozen times in the group-chat that had been created on Mirror for the occasion of their trip, which meant her _lovely_ sundresses were back.

The one she was wearing today was made of a thin material and red, dotted with a flowery pattern; the sleeves were flowy and went down to just above her elbows, while a string of press-on buttons ran from the lowest point of the V-neck to the hem of the skirt.

The fabric hung to her round hips in a way that was driving him crazy, and more than once since he'd looked at her in it, back at the Penthouse, he'd fantasized about taking it off with a single gesture, _hopefully_ with some of the buttons falling on the floor.

They hadn't been intimate for some time, and Draco was as thirsty as a man in the desert.

How could he _not_?

Granger looked positively _edible_.

At first he'd been told by the Healer at St. Mungo's to avoid any kind of physical exertion (sex included) for at least two weeks and then they'd been interrupted by their friends the day their trip to Australia had been planned.

Last but not least, the whole Astoria accident had happened, and right after that, even though they had had a time and a place to get down to it, he'd thought better than to try to seduce her.

He'd thought it was _crass_.

He knew that technically he'd done nothing wrong, considering he'd rejected Astoria immediately and they could barely called what had happened a kiss, but he still felt as if he'd wronged her somehow, and preferred to leave it to Hermione to initiate their next _rendezvous_.

So here Draco was, with half a boner inside of a hospital.

Attention still captured by the sway of her hips as she walked just a step ahead of him, he was so distracted he almost headbutted the door when she abruptly came to a halt.

She giggled, albeit mockingly. "If you're quite done checking me out, Malfoy..."

Granger released his hand to knock on the door, bringing it to the handle when a female voice invited them in. As it was half on its way down the witch paused and turned to him with a smirk.

"The sooner we're done, the sooner you can get me _out_ of this thing".

* * *

Draco had no idea who could hate him to the point of trying to kill him _with purpose_.

He thought those things to be in his past, locked inside his memories of the war, but apparently he'd been wrong.

Since the end of his parole he'd kept his head down and stood as far from the public eye as it was humanly possible, at least for a Malfoy. It was painfully clear that hadn't been enough.

As much as the blond wanted to be the better person, sit this one out and let justice take its course, deep in his gut he felt he needed to do something. Which he completely intended to do, as soon as Hermione heard back from the guy who was investigating the weird paper for her.

Draco was so feverishly focused on his thoughts he didn't notice the change of scenery around him. He didn't see the white walls of the hospital turn into a full glass window that looked down on Sydney from the highest floor of a skyscraper and ignored the familiar tug at his stomach when she apparated them both inside of her personal office at MagiTech's Headquarters.

But her voice — _Salazar, her voice_ — as her hands locked behind his neck and she tiptoed, despite the heels, so that she could speak directly _over_ his mouth, well, that was a siren's lullaby Draco couldn't have missed even if his life depended on it.

" _What do you think?_ "

"Well, _I_ \- I can't believe you saved my life twice in less than a month", he admitted.

It wasn't a lie, but it wasn't the full truth, either. Of one thing he was sure: he didn't want to spoil their first vacation together by letting her in on his plots for vengeance.

He had a feeling she was quite talented in that department and, if he'd gotten to know her as much as he liked to believe he did, probably very _prone_ to it, but it could wait until they got back to London.

Right now there were more pressing matters he needed to give his attention to, like her red sundress and how marvelous she looked inside of it.

He couldn't really remember an instance where she hadn't looked beautiful, besides from their first years at Hogwarts and the war. Not that somebody had managed to look good on the battlefield, anyway.

"I did no such thing", she said, her lips moving so close to his that his own tingled. "Healer Singh did all the work, really".

"But you're the one who trapped me into coming here", he teased, all scorn forgotten about her ploy to get him to Australia today.

Determined not to lose another second, Draco brought his hands to her sides, grabbing her hips to pull her closer as his mouth _finally_ touched hers.

The kiss started slowly, a delicate brush of reconnaisance that branded her flavor in his brain and in the depths of his nervous system. Knowing what she tasted like after a lifetime of wondering, he'd come to realize in the last months, he wasn't sure he could ever let go.

His hands traveled further as the blond bit on her lower lip and used his tongue to soothe the ache, one hand on the small of her back as the other circled her neck from behind, gentle but firm.

With a shaky breath her lips drew apart and that was the only sign he needed for his tongue to start his invasion of her mouth as their eyes fluttered close.

He had a moment of hesitation after realizing her body was now completely sprawled over his own, fearing he'd been too forceful in his attempt at seduction after promising himself he'd let her establish the pace, but upon further inspection it had been Hermione to pull him closer, one hand reaching down to grab his ass as the other disappeared in his hair, tugging gently at its roots.

When their kiss came to an end, it was only for the lack of oxygen.

"Thank you", he felt compelled to say as they stood, forehead to forehead.

Her eyes were glossy, lit by his favourite strain of Granger fire.

"I missed you", was her reply. She gave his ass a squeeze. "And _this_ ".

It was about all the _overture_ he needed.

She seemed to have planned their time between the hospital and reuniting with the rest of the group rather meticulously.

His suspicions were confirmed when the side of the glass window that faced the inside of the building magically started to change appearance and from see-through it turned to a privacy-friendly dark grey, as if there was fog trapped inside of it.

He kissed her again, this time allowing his hands to roam more freely.

The sides of her face, her shoulders, arms, hips, mid-rif. Her breasts.

"I missed you, too".

Draco felt predictable, but he couldn't care less.

His hands settled on her exceptionally tempting arse, using it as leverage to lift her up.

The witch crossed her legs behind his back as her mouth looked for his once again.

From his experience Granger wasn't her usual chatty self under certain circumstances — dirty talk hardly qualified as conversation — so he knew it was bound to be good when she pulled back after a good five minutes of obscene grinding.

" _Where do you want to do it?_ "

Draco doubted he was ever going to hear a sweeter question soon, or at least until the next time Hermione decided she wanted to have her wicked way with him.

Without thinking about twice and still holding her up he went for the desk, where he let himself fall into the chair and they promptly resumed their session of dry-humping.

If he was fucking a _Queen_ , then he might as well do it on her _throne_ , shouldn't he?

Immagination running wild — fucking a Queen made him some kind of _King_ , didn't it? — Draco felt her small fingers play with the waist band of his muggle jeans before she pulled off his t-shirt.

Her eyes scanned the entire perimeter of his chest and she released a satisfied sigh before she leaned down and left a trail of wet kisses from the back of his ear to his clavicle and further down, but the blond wasn't happy with just sitting and letting her have all the fun.

Grunting, he finally set out on accomplishing the task which had been tormenting him for hours: getting Granger out of her dress.

Just like he'd imagined, after popping open the first button he just needed to apply a little more pressure in a downward motion for the others to come undone as well.

So here she was, almost naked in all her glorious beauty.

As he'd suspected during his previous exploration, she wasn't wearing a bra.

Come to think about it, she did that a lot. Not that he minded.

His gaze instantly dropped to her bosom, where each of his thumb and index finger started playing with her nipples as his hands gently cupped her breasts.

It was familiar how they sat on his palms, he'd memorized them to perfection by now, but that didn't make it any less exciting. Sex with Granger was like nothing else he'd done in his life: he learned something different about her body and, surprisingly, himself, every single time they did it.

She whimpered in his mouth when his hands migrated south, leaving her chest for the time being and reaching down to stroke the outer sides of her thighs.

Draco particularly loved her legs. Despite her not-so-impressive height — without heels on, her forehead barely reached his shoulders — they were long and chiseled, toned but very soft to the touch.

"You're so beautiful", he managed to voice his appraisal in between kisses, cherishing the way she looked at him in the eyes from behind her long lashes, a delightful blush spreading all over the surface of her cheeks. "And I'm so _lucky_ ".

For someone used to the public attention, and to see her face plastered all over magazines on a daily basis, Hermione always looked embarrassed upon receiving a compliment, which in turn only made him want to give her more.

" _Mmh_ ", she acknowledged his previous statement.

Her eyes roamed appreciatively over his bare chest, the tip of one finger tracing an invisible line around the contours of his abs. Draco knew she had a particular fascination with them, it was the main reason sit-ups were the only part of his work-out routine he'd already resumed since the accident.

"Yeah, _lucky_ ", she repeated, and then her hand traveled further down, to stroke his manhood from above his jeans. "I think I know what you mean".

Her cheeky grin was rapidly covered by his mouth as he leaned in for another feverish kiss.

If possible, his dick grew harder upon receiving the compliment, blissfully happy in the hands of what the _thing_ now simply considered his mistress, no questions asked.

Technically speaking, Draco knew he was well-endowed, but to hear it from her usually played quite the number on his self-esteem, and today it was no exception.

Her hands worked with the single button of his jeans and undid his zip, while she retreated just a little on his lap so that she could more comfortably carry on with her ministrations.

Only a layer of fabric now separated her from the pulsing center of his arousal as her lips connected with his neck once more, kissing and biting and sucking the tender skin just above his clavicle.

For a moment he thought he'd died, for that certainly felt like heaven.

The blond felt exceptionally cold when Hermione abruptly stood up, but only to feel the temperature raise once more as her hands went to her hips and, with expert tardiness, she grabbed the elastic waistband and pulled her lacy knickers down her legs.

In passing, Draco duly noted they were a remarkable shade of Slytherin green.

Promptly he reached out to her, sitting a little straighter on the office chair as he set out on touching her in the most intimate nook of her body.

A single stroke of a finger was enough to tell him she was _wet_. Indisputably so.

His index finger was joined by another as he started producing small circles over her clitoris, but Granger shushed his hand away and leaned on, grabbing the frontal belt loops of his jeans and tugging them down. He helped by bucking his hips towards the ceiling and, consequentially, her.

"We don't have time for that", she announced, her voice lower and huskier than it usually was.

Her eyes were shining with something he couldn't quite understand, but her body language screamed of urgency as she removed the last barrier between them and got him out of his boxers, which joined his trousers in the pool at his feet.

She covered the small distance between them and took his hands in her own, leading them to her breasts.

"I want _you_ , now", she added, coyly.

"I'm yours. By all means, do with me as you please", was all the reply he managed to vocalize, followed by a " _Fuck_ , Granger" he couldn't stop when she did exactly as he'd required.

Climbing back on top of his lap and helping herself with a hand to align his cock to her entrance, she slid down the length of his shaft as her arms hugged each side of his neck, stretching herself inside out.

It was blissfully warm and tight in there. He'd missed it with a passion.

"Fuck _me_ ", she countered. She bucked her hips up and down a couple times, using her knees as leverage, but then she paused to flash him a cocky smile. "Though, _technically_ , I'm the one who's fucking you, Malfoy".

Draco fumbled for a witty reply, but came up empty-handed when she resumed her motion and, straightening her spine, she used her grip on the back of his head to demand another kiss.

For once, he really didn't care if she got the last word.

At first, Hermione made love to him with an excruciatingly slow pace, kissing and licking every inch of skin she could reach, her open dress fluttering behind her like an halo, and for some time he really let her do as she pleased, taking what she wanted the way she wanted it, his hands merely a light presence on her hips as she staked her claim over him, supporting but not demanding.

Soon enough his own body revolted against his chivalry, hips moving to meet her halfway as he grabbed her hair and lightly pulled at them to expose her throat, where he sent his mouth to feast.

Her rhythm hastened when his tongue ran across her collarbone and down her sternum just before it reached the erect mountain peak of her left breast, which, according to his theory, was for some unspecified reason way more sensitive than the other.

Deciding to be fair and _just_ , he set his hand on taking care of her other nipple, pinching it with just the right amount of pressure that was usually needed to _undo_ her.

The woman's eyes were shut, lips slightly parted as small breaths frantically escaped from her mouth, but Draco couldn't bring himself to close his own.

Granger riding him was a sight to behold, and he carefully stored every detail in his mind for a later use. There were no doubts he was going to think of this moment the next time he touched himself.

Their current position didn't allow for yet another increase in speed, so she removed her arms from the sides of his neck to place her hands on the edge of the desk behind her, using it as leverage as her gasps for hair became shorter and more quickly paced, in a mixture of moans — " _Draco", she would chant from time to time, as if his name tasted particularly sweet on her tongue_ — and orders — _faster, harder, more._

By this point she didn't need to voice her commands for him to comply, and clasping her hips he put the muscles of his back and thighs to good use as he fucked her deeper from the new angle.

Draco's eyes fluttered close, heart pounding in his chest as the familiar tingling started diffusing in his groin and from there spread to the base of his spine.

Every pound of flesh in his body was working towards the same glorious purpose — _orgasm_ — but Draco Malfoy was nothing if not a gentleman, and he was going to make sure Granger got to the finish line before he did.

It didn't matter how much his balls were screaming it was impossible.

The wizard was ready to focus on pretty much every silly, disgusting thing he could think of to delay the unavoidable, like _great-aunt Hydra Black_ 's gigantic and protruding birthmark on the chin, but luckily for him her moans became louder and grew in frequency, and he didn't need to resort to such drastic measures as he felt her whole body tensing, her insides clenching around his shaft.

Hermione rode away her climax, knuckles white because of her grip on the wooden desk.

It didn't take more than a couple of thrusts for the tingling sensation to turn into a raging fire, and his eyes fell shut once more when he felt all the pressure he'd accumulated in his manly parts gradually disappear as a jolt of satisfaction ran through his entire body, relaxing all his muscles at once.

Draco was short of a breath when she placed a kiss on his lips that was slower and sweeter, brushing her naked chest against his own as she hugged him tightly and welcomed inside of her body the undeniable proof of his orgasm, their bodily fluids mixed together as they leaked from her core to his thighs.

Her tongue in his mouth was the only reason he kept silent.

 _I love you_ — he felt the urge to scream.

Just as he thought that perhaps this was the best occasion he was ever going to get to come clean about his feelings for her, the unmistakable sound of the doors of a lift opening echoed from the other side of the hallway, followed by different voices.

"I've already told you, Mrs. Parkinson. Victoria didn't come in this morning. We aren't expecting her before the tenth of November".

Whatever moment Draco thought they could have, it was gone now.

Hermione raised her hips and relinquished her hold on him, climbing down his lap as she furiously started buttoning up her dress. In her haste, she failed to notice she'd missed some.

"And I have told you, Dianne, that I know for a fact she is in her office", the blond heard Pansy say as he pulled up his boxers and jeans and set out searching for his shirt.

Once he found it, trapped beneath the chair, Draco wore it again and helped the witch re-do her buttons as the steps got closer and closer.

The glass window returned normal and she tied her hair up on a messy bun, scolding him for making such a mess of it.

"It looks better when it's wild", he confessed, winking at her.

Pansy and her party of five turned the corner just moments later, and even from afar Draco could see her victorious smirk as she indicated the office and turned to a middle-aged woman with dark hair, presumably _Dianne_.

" _Told you_ ", she chirped. "Goodbye, Dianne", she greeted, dismissively, but the witch he would later discover to be Hermione's personal secretary didn't budge.

"We weren't expecting you today, Ms. Sallow", she apologized, cornered between a rock and a hard place.

From what Draco knew Pansy was pretty high in MagiTech's power chain, though she wasn't the boss.

"Mrs. Parkinson insisted she was to meet you up here along with these... _guests_ ".

Blaise and Ginny waved their hands at her, unfazed by their friend's antics, while Harry looked totally uncomfortable as he held a sleeping Adhara in his arms.

Why of all people he was the one carrying his child, Draco was dying to know.

Somewhere behind him, pretending to look for something in the bookshelf, Hermione cleared her throat.

"It's fine, Dianne", she said. "They're some of our friends from England. I'm sorry I forgot to give you a heads up, but we'll be touring the Headquarters before lunch. I just needed something from my office first. Here we go, _finally_ ".

The witch raised a small envelope with a winning smile, as if she'd just spent the last thirty minutes searching the room for it and had just found something of the utmost importance.

"Of course", Dianne replied, forcing a laugh. "I'll be at my desk if you need me".

With that she turned on her kitten heels and left the room without bothering to say goodbye to anyone else, humming a tone as she awkwardly walked the distance to the lift.

Potter didn't lose time and placed the sleeping child in Draco's arms.

"She drifted off somewhere between brunch and our time at the beach", he told him. "She seemed very tired, so we thought it was best to just let her rest".

"I can't say I'm surprised", Draco admitted. "The trip messed up her whole schedule. Salazar knows she can be a bit of a handful when she doesn't get her sleep".

He raised his eyes from Adhara's sleeping form to meet Hermione's smile.

"Let's start our tour, then. Shall we?"

* * *

 ** _(Ministry of Magic — Whitehall, London, England;_**  
 ** _October 28th, 2003, around 10:00 a.m.)_**

* * *

Theo Nott smiled at the screen of his telephone as he walked the distance between the Wizengamot's office and the atrium, truly engrossed in the absurd selfies he was receiving from the other side of the planet.

Being eleven hours ahead, Hermione, Draco and the others were already finished with their dinner and on their way to a muggle club.

There was a picture of Blaise and Draco splashing in a fountain fully clothed, another of Potter drinking beer from a glass bigger than his face, one more of his sister, Pansy and Ginny posing in front of a lavish building he remembered from his trip to Australia earlier that year.

His friends looked as if they were having a lot of fun, not to mention positively _sloshed_ , and the young wizard really wished he could have joined them on their improvised trip.

His interview with the Warlocks hadn't been to bad after the initial awkwardness as they questioned his opinion about his late father's involvement in the war, and Theodore had managed to work his Nott charms on them and grant himself a second meeting with the board.

Re-claiming ownership of a Wizengamot seat was proving trickier than he'd imagined.

Many of the families who'd founded the magical court had been kicked out of it because of their involvement with Voldemort, even more so when the threat had been vanquished the second time, which for Theo meant the people he had to convince were not many, but none of them matched his background.

The Purebloods there were now a minority and seemed to be doing anything in their power to appear as _muggle-loving_ as they could, although he had suspicion their behaviour was being dictated by their survival instinct rather than their good hearts or stainless souls.

Many of those wizards and witches he remembered from his childhood, from when they rubbed shoulders with people like his father or Lucius Malfoy and supported blood supremacy, and not a single one of them had bothered fighting against the Dark Lord or supporting the Order of the Phoenix.

There were some exceptions, of course, like his uncle Euriphides, but overall the Wizengamot seemed a highly hypocritical farce rather than the paramount of justice it was supposed to be.

However, rather than throwing him off, this awareness had sparked something inside of him that he knew he couldn't put to sleep without some serious effort: now that he knew just how botched things were, Theodore Nott felt the inexplicable need to make it better.

He'd dreamed about getting his hands on the family seat ever since he'd been a little child and his formal lessons on how to be a proper Lord and Head of House had started, but when Cantankerus had died and left it vacant, his natural reaction had been to refuse it.

Not only he didn't think his name could ever recover from the social and political disgrace his father had brought upon it, for the first time in his life the Slytherin had also felt as if he was _unworthy_.

Knowing his twin sister had posed as Hermione Granger, Muggleborn extraordinaire, had been a huge blow on his self-esteem: he had fought against the dark side in the war, that was true, but nothing of what he'd done — as the muggles said, _too little too late_ — could possibly compare to what Eloise had managed to accomplish.

She was way more deserving of the privilege than he was, so Theo had acted accordingly, never filing in his request until at some point, with all of his time and energies focused entirely on finding her, he'd forgotten about it.

Until she'd brought it up over dinner last week.

He'd tried to convince his sister that she was the one who should take the Nott seat, but she'd waved his protests away one by one, and in the end he'd found himself removing the dust from his childhood dream.

A large crowd was standing in the Ministry's atrium when he finally turned the last corner and reached the room, but it was only upon further inspection that he noticed the floating quills and the magical cameras, tell-tale signs of their identity.

 _Press conference, then_ — he thought.

His phone vibrated in the chest pocket of his muggle suit once more, temporarily averting his attention from the scene unfolding in front of his blue eyes.

This last picture portrayed the entire group sitting around a giant hookah and he stared at the happy expression they were sporting until the familiar voice of the wizard who'd just took the small, improvised stage echoed through the air with the help of a _Sonorus_ charm.

It had been years since the last time he'd heard it and instantly his mind drifted back to his time in Hogwarts, to locker-room shenanigans and the smell of the grass in the Quidditch pitch.

The Flint family was one of the few who had avoided the wrath of the Ministry at the end of war, mostly because they'd funded Voldemort's cause but never took the Mark, nonetheless it still felt a bit odd to see Marcus on stage, speaking to the reporters.

From what he knew they weren't doing too well nowadays, what with the heir to their fortune being still celibate and their other son a mere Quidditch player, and Theo's curiosity was instantly picked.

He wondered what the press conference could possibly be about.

"I thank you for your time, ladies and gentlemen", said Marcus to the press. "I'll be brief, as there are more important things that require my attention today. That is, _celebrating_ ".

The Slytherin had been famous for having a brilliant way with words, so it didn't really surprised him when from his strategic position at the outskirts of the crowd Theo saw reporters from the main papers hanging to his every word.

"As it is, I'm officially no longer a scion of House Flint. I've just come out of the _Office for the Preservation of Magical Ancestry_ , where the papers that'll cut all my ties to my birth family are being finalized. For too long I've allowed my parents and what they deem as...", Flint paused, dramatically. "... _Proper_ to dictate my life. _Today_ , I finally said _no more_ ".

Nott didn't know how to feel rather than, well, _confused_.

It was usually the only way around, with parents disowning their children for whatever piece of _bullshit_ they found unforgivable in their offspring.

There were hundreds of cases in the records of the Sacred Twenty-Eight where heirs had been repudiated by their elders, but not one of someone voluntarily giving up on their family name — not with the privilege it usually entailed.

Last time he'd checked Marcus hadn't seemed much of the revolutionary type, but then again Theo had never paid much attention to him, or to his Slytherin peers who didn't directly belong to his inner circle of friends.

They'd played Quidditch together and attended the same upper-class parties in their youth, but that was about it.

He'd always thought of Marcus as a casual acquaintance rather than a friend, and for the first time the Nott heir found himself interested in the whereabouts of his existence.

Perhaps there was more to Flint than he'd always believed.

"Lord Flint didn't take it too well when I turned down the last witch he proposed as my future bride. He was downright infuriated when I told him that he'll _never_ see me marry _any_ woman".

Journalists from serious papers retracted at that, annoyed they'd wasted their precious time on something as trivial as gossip, while reporters from less distinct magazines came forward and started throwing questions in rapid succession.

"You don't believe in marriage, Mr. Flint?", asked someone from the first row.

"Who was this girl? Surely she can't be _that_ ugly", sniffed Rita Skeeter in her acid green robes.

" _Are you implying that you like wizards, Mr. Flint_?"

Theo recognized the last one as an employee from _WitchWeekly_.

Aiden Kelpis was one of the first people he'd hired upon being gifted with the newspaper by his sister, and he was a young wizard of muggle heritage who'd graduated from Hogwarts at the beginning of the summer.

He was born and raised in London, with fair skin and a slender frame.

He'd been the founder and president of the first _LGBT+_ student association in the history of the magical school. Attached to his application, a letter from the Headmistress herself had convinced him to give a chance to the young reporter, and so far he hadn't been disappointed once.

His articles were witty, tackling social issues from a fresh perspective, and though he sometimes got a bit carried away by his personal opinions, what he wrote was better than any other rubbish the senior reporters at WitchWeekly served to their affectionate readers.

The crowd braced itself for Marcus reply, Theodore included.

Flint laughed. "I was about to circle around it a little more, _Mr_?"

"Kelpis, sir. Aiden Kelpis. I'm here with WitchWeekly", the reporter flashed his badge.

"Well, Mr. Kelpis, it appears you are right", Marcus told him before he turned his attention back to the rest of the press. "As if I'm interested in pursuing a romantic relationship only with other males, it's unlikely I'll ever provide House Flint with a heir befitting to their standards. A Pureblood child, that is".

Quills scrabbled furiously over the pieces of parchment.

Theo's attention was drawn to the smirk on the wizard's face. It looked as if Marcus was enjoying it immensely, and he couldn't _not_ sympathize: he knew what it felt to grow up in an ancient family who couldn't care less about your personal well-being; he'd seen with his own eyes Pansy being kicked out of her house, stripped of her titles and money, running away to the other side of the world as year after year Daphne had died a little more on the inside, crippled by her desire to live up to her status until at one point it had been the only thing she had.

More questions were asked.

" _Do you have a boyfriend, Mr. Flint_?"

" _Do you think what you told us today will influence your career_?"

" _Did your teammates know?_ "

" _What does your brother think_?"

"I hardly think my private life has anything to do with my Keeping Scores since I joined Puddlemere almost nine years ago. My results speak for themselves", Marcus clarified, and it was clear he was openly challenging the Quidditch society he played for, which notoriously supported homophobic groups. "I will answer no further questions. All I needed for you to know is that I am no longer to be associated with Flint House, as I'm legally no longer part of it. Have a good day".

Then the wizard walked out of the stage with his usual swagger, albeit a little hurriedly, and quickly took the first hallway that would get him away from the press, followed closely by two bodyguards.

 _Well, that was something_ — Theo thought.

As the reporters were setting on leaving the Ministry, eager to write down such a scoop while it was still so fresh, the wizard spotted Aiden standing alone as he scribbled down his block-notes, and he approached it without thinking about it twice.

"Good morning, Kelpis", he greeted. "I can't wait to read your piece on today's conference".

"Well, that's- Thank you, Mr. Nott", the other said. "I was here just to substitute for Megan, since she got the flue, but I think I'll end up writing the piece myself".

"Feel free to tell your colleague that _I_ 've specifically assigned this one to you", Theo replied. "I'll find Ms. Dawson something else. I'm sure she'll understand".

Since day one he'd opted for a direct approach with his employees at the paper: forgetting everything Cantankerus had taught him about business, his son had taken his time to know the members of his staff and their stories, so it wasn't strange at all that he knew exactly whom Aiden was talking about. At the Foundation they would have been _appalled._

Aiden nodded his agreement, grateful he had one less thing to take care of.

"Thank you, Mr. Nott", he said. "I'll try and have the article ready before the next issue is out".

The reporter didn't wait for his reply, but bowed his head and excused himself, disappearing from his sight with incredible speed. Sometimes Theo forgot there were people who didn't feel compelled to engage in small talk.

He phone-called Pansy on his way out of the Ministry.


	36. WRITING ON THE WALL

**DISCLAIMER:** the only thing I own are the plot and the original characters of this story, everything else you may recognize belongs to J.K. Rowling. My only profit is my personal entertainment and hopefully yours.

* * *

 **WARNINGS:** ** _pureblood!Hermione_** , **_OOC_** , _**rated M**_ for sexual encounters, language, mentions of violence; **_modern_**.

* * *

This fanfiction comes with dedicated website: **godisawitchfic** dot **tumblr** dot **com**. You can also find me as **slytherinsauce** on both **tumblr** and **pinterest** with more content dedicated to this story. Beware of spoilers.

* * *

 **Author's notes** : as I texted to my bf earlier, " _I've been planning on writing tonight but I'll update 'cause my poor readers deserve better than what I'm giving them rn_ ", so here I am, sorry as usual for the late update. But you know, _life_. Anyway, I hope you'll enjoy the first part because we get to know a little better a character that will become a sort of "regular", or at least part of the "inner circle", for following there is a very long sequence where our heroes play a drinking game in Australia and finally our _favourite_ magical reporter makes another appearance. Seriously, I hate her... but at the same time it's a lot of fun to write her because I just try to picture the worst person I can imagine? I hope you'll have an amazing week and I'll see you guys soon for I plan to post chapter 37th very soon (I mean it this time, lol).

p.s. review and tell me what you think, _pretty please_?

* * *

 **36.**

 **WRITING ON THE WALL**

 **.**

* * *

 _how do I live? how do I breathe?_  
 _when you're not here I'm suffocating_  
 _I want to feel love, run through my blood_  
 _tell me, is this where I give it all up?_  
 _for you I have to risk it all_  
 _'cause the writing's on the wall_

 _a million shards of glass that haunt me from my past_  
 _as the stars begin to gather and the light begins to fade_  
 _when all hope begins to shatter know that I won't be afraid_  
 _if I risk it all, could you break my fall?_

* * *

 _ **(Flint Estate — Wiltshire, England;  
October 28th, 2003, around 09:00 a.m.)**_

* * *

Breakfast was usually a sad deal in their manor and that morning was not an exception.

Words were spoken scarcely, as if too expensive for their worth, but when they did they cut the air sharp as blades.

It shouldn't surprise it was Lord Flint who did most of the talking.

Raised as a proper Pureblood, the man had been raised according to tradition and etiquette, and the results were something their society as a whole would have definitely improved by taking his entire education, setting it on fire and making it an example of what _shouldn't_ be done ever again.

Barnard Flint had turned out to be the worse kind of wizard there was, and a conceited one at that.

When things went bad it was never his fault, he couldn't listen to someone else's advice to save his life and, more importantly, he thought of the members of his family as of people he _owned_.

Starting with his wife, Ophelia, whom he'd married by contract after graduating from Hogwarts and whose opinion was never taken into consideration, or even voiced, on anything substantial, a witch who seemed content to just spend most of her time in front of the mirror and what was left of it haunting the hallways of the old Flint estate — sad and shallow.

Their firstborn, Icarus, was the spitting image of his father: with sandy blond hair and green eyes, he carried himself as if the world was his domain, only he lacked his old man's political ruthlessness and had a brain the size of a nut. He worked for the Ministry because that was what any scion of an ancient and noble House who'd passed his _N.E.W.T_ s did, and because Barnard had ensured his employment with a generous donation, but really all he cared about were his beloved _werewolves races_ and the bets he placed on them, often losing, and the _courtesans_ who resided in Knockturn Alley.

He was sad and shallow as well, so perhaps he'd taken something after his mother, too.

The last person sitting at the breakfast table that morning was Marcus, the younger son, and he'd been interrogating himself for the most part of his twenty-six years walking this earth about his connection with the two people who were allegedly responsible for his birth.

When he looked at their faces they weren't holding a mirror up to him, he could only see a living, breathing example of what he thought was wrong with the world.

What bothered him the most, though, was their _entitlement_ : they acted as if their way was the right one, as if they were the only people who'd found the true meaning of human life, as if there was not even a possibility they could be wrong.

Marcus had always wished he could be the one to shatter their delusions, to bring their feet back to the ground and force them to confront the awful parents they'd been, their non-existent contribution to wizarding society.

They were _cowards_ , that's what they were.

They had supported the Dark Lord since day one, but they'd never openly endorsed his cause, funding him in secret rather than publicly associating with him.

So they'd made it through two wars practically unscathed, just economically wounded.

Probably the only witty decision in their lives.

Marcus knew he was plenty of bad things himself, how could one be _not_ with such a set of narcissistic parents, but overall he always owned up to his actions.

"You should cut your hair, dear", Ophelia's plummy voice cut through his thoughts. There was no real affection in it. "It's not fitting for a wizard of your standing to be going around with such a mess over your head, even if you're _merely_ a _Quidditch player_ ".

Her lips curled up into a sneer by the time she mentioned his choice of career, something they'd argued about relentlessly over the past eight years, and when Barnard cleaned his mouth with his handkerchief and his body language suggested he was going to talk, the wizard knew he was being ambushed.

 _Why couldn't they just leave him alone_?

Flying was what he was best at, the one thing he truly cared about, and he'd told them over and over again that he couldn't see things changing anytime soon. He was sorry they didn't approve of his career choices — _not really_ — but that was his path and Marcus was dead set on following it.

Besides, they didn't seem to mind his Quidditch-earned money when more than once it had been used to cover up the holes in their vaults his parents caused with their excessive lifestyle.

"A haircut is a great idea, Ophelia", his father chimed in with the precision of a clock.

Only he didn't want to talk about how unbecoming of a Flint it was to play professionally, but of the other topic he always did his best to avoid and post-pone.

It was the one that hurt the most.

"I've set up a brief meeting for you with the daughter of Axel Mistle, _Brigitte_. I'm sure the two of you will have plenty to talk about. She just recently graduated from Beauxbatons", Barnard announced. "The Mistles have a wonderful winery in France that would come as part of her dowry".

Marcus couldn't believe his ears. Not _this_ again.

From the other side of the table, Icarus winked at him, basking in his own amusement.

To say their relationship wasn't civil would have been an understatement, but he could have never rejoiced for his brother's pain.

It appeared Icarus didn't share such feelings.

As if sensing his nervousness, his mother turned to her firstborn.

"How did _your_ meeting with Priscilla Rowle went last week?"

Just like that, they changed topic and let the new piece of information simmer in, refusing to further talk about it and even pretend to acknowledge his opinion on the matter, preferring to leave him to deal with it in another moment.

Possibly convince him to show up at that meeting and play along for a bit just so that he could avoid an argument.

 _Well_ , _no more_.

Realization hit him like a horde of Thestrals.

Things were never going to _change_. They were never going to get any _better_.

He'd been _delusional_ in thinking he could salvage some sort of relationship with them while simultaneously _respecting_ himself.

It was hard to recognize he'd wasted the past six years of his life.

He should have burned all bridges between them at the end of the war, turn them in for their involvement in Voldemort's rapid rise to the top of the Ministry and hope they were going to be locked up in Azkaban, or at least socially disgraced, but _he hadn't_.

He'd still hoped there was something redeemable about them when, apparently, there wasn't.

They weren't giving in, finally realizing he was entitled to control over his own life; they were merely trying a different approach: lure him in with a false sense of security and then present him with _facts_ rather than proposals.

But he was _so_ done.

"I'll let you know that I quite like my hair as it is", he smirked, brushing a hand on top of his raven curls. "And that my _boyfriend_ likes it too".

His father's face lost all colour.

"That's right. _I_ , Marcus Flint, like _men_ ", he said, dropping his handkerchief on the table. "And there's not a damn thing you can do about it. Or to talk me out of this".

Ophelia let out a humorless laugh. " _Ah-ah,_ Marcus. Very funny. Now's not the time for jokes".

Although he didn't currently have a boyfriend, didn't had one for some time now, it kindled something in his chest which he had never thought he had in himself.

The wizard didn't pay her any attention, too focused on monitoring Barnard's reactions to the news he'd just mercilessly thrown at him. No preparation whatsoever.

It felt _glorious_.

He knew from experience that his father wasn't against physical punishment to settle down disputes, he remembered how much he'd been beaten up when he didn't pass his _N.E.W.T_ s the first time, so his hand instinctively flew to the pocket where his wand was stored when he saw him banging his fists on the table.

"That's _unacceptable._ How dare you speak like this-".

"That's where you're sorely mistaken, father. I'm not asking for your acceptance, I'm just pointing out a fact that someone even as dull-witted as you can understand. I'm _out_ of here".

His mother pretended to be distressed by his imminent departure, clutching a hand at her heart as she pleaded. "Surely you don't mean it, dear".

"Don't bother", he stopped her. "This family is _sick_ and it'll never change. Joke's on me for believing you weren't completely rotten".

It happened in a blur.

Barnard raised his wand at his son, the beginning of an Unforgivable on his lips, and Marcus, for the first time in his life, didn't adjust himself to suit his father's demands and reacted naturally.

He stunned him and apparated away.

He needed to hire some private guards.

* * *

 _ **(Hamilton Hotel, Sydney, Australia;**_  
 _ **October 28th, 2003, around 10:00 p.m.)**_

* * *

The lounge of the hotel where they were supposed to spend the night was something grandiose, a mixture of modern luxury and timeless beauty that Harry rarely found himself confronted with.

Geometric patterns in black, white and gold blended seamlessly to create a peaceful, eye-resting environment, while many arch-doors connected the space to the other areas which the Hamilton Hotel dedicated to its guests.

Their bedrooms were in the top floors, with windows that looked down at one of the best views of the entire city and private bathrooms, they were furnished lavishly and contained pretty much everything a wizard or a witch could want during a holiday, from tourist guides to massage oil.

Harry simply couldn't wait to make love to Pansy in the king-size bed with white Egyptian cotton sheets and ever since he'd seen it the first time, hours ago when they'd quickly took a shower and changed into something more appropriate to dine out, he couldn't picture his _honeymoon_ somewhere that wasn't this place.

Growing up in a cupboard under the stairs only to find out you're a celebrity, Harry Potter wasn't someone who indulged in opulence very often.

Although most of the damage done by the Dursleys he was positive had been undone, sometimes he still felt weird when doing the most stupid and trivial things, like buying himself some clothes.

He was pretty sure the first item of clothing he'd owned that didn't come from Dudley was the sweater Mrs. Weasley had knitted for him, which he'd received during his first Christmas at Hogwarts and he still kept in his closet.

Harry still remembered Pansy's face when she'd seen it the first time.

"So, how does this place work exactly?", Ginny was asking, perched on one of the ottomans.

She was referring to the introductory brochure they'd been given at dinner, where the activities offered by the hotel were advertised.

It said the lounge could provide any kind of amusement they could think of. Respecting the boundaries of Australian magical laws, of course, which, as it turned out, were definitely more liberal than the ones they had in Britain.

They'd expected all kinds of weird and interesting stuff to be in the room, but nothing of the sort had welcomed them at their arrival.

The few guests present seemed busy minding their own business, which mostly consisted in drinking their souls away, and the group of six had picked a big table in a corner of the room, close to the bar but a little more secluded than the others.

Soon they were approached by one of the waiters, who was dressed in black and explained how the lounge worked. Its mechanism was similar to that of the Room of Requirement.

For things to happen you just needed to simply wish them, only the lounge wasn't inside of a school, so it didn't came with the same limitations. Here they could get alcohol, for example.

Indirectly, he also told them why it seemed to attract so little people: it appeared the magic couldn't deal with more than a certain number of people at the same time, which meant the experience was extremely exclusive, not to mention expensive.

 _Of course_ , as soon as they'd heard _Victoria Sallow_ wanted a table, they'd prepared one for her straight away.

That was something Harry didn't think he could ever get used to, the way people acted around Hermione — or rather this rich _persona_ she'd become on the side.

Only an idiot wouldn't have recognized her success, but to him she was always going to be the tenacious eleven years old who had told him getting expelled was the worst thing that could happen to them after their first encounter with a three-headed dog.

The friend whose loyalty had been unwavering through the toughest experiences of his life.

He couldn't think of a scenario where he succeeded in defeating Voldemort without her help.

All six of them seemed to agree on their necessity to have a drink, because six glasses appeared simultaneously on their table.

Pansy's came with a little box. It contained a deck of cards, self-inking quills and a vial filled with a clear liquid.

" _The truth comes out_. _Extreme_ ", she read from the instructions. "I don't know about you, but I always find it exhilarating when muggles do drinking games in the movies".

"You mean when they embarrass themselves and tell things they're supposed to keep secret?", Blaise rebuked with a smirk. "Count me in".

"What are the rules?", asked Ginny, more prudently.

She wasn't sure she was sober enough to properly deal with this kind of stuff.

" _Oh_ , it's very easy", Pansy replied. "Each player gets a quill and three cards, where we write down three things about us that no one in the room knows about. Then we put all the cards back together, and the enchantment on the box will shuffle the deck for us. At every turn, someone picks a card and reads out the secret. Then he or she gets two guesses on who wrote it".

"I assume there's a penalty if you guess the wrong person", Zabini piped up.

"Your assumption is correct, Blaise", the witch said. "If you fail you have a shot of Firewhisky. Then the others can decide to take their guess, but they only get one try and will have _two_ shots of penalty to drink".

Harry looked over her shoulder to read the instructions.

"You just made that up", he accused, playfully.

"I still don't get what's so _extreme_ about it", Draco added.

Harry instinctively eyed the vial, which was still in the box. _Surely it couldn't be_?

"Is that _Veritaserum_?", he inquired.

Were they in England he would have to confiscate it.

"Yu _p_ ", Pansy's honeyed voice lingered on the "p". "Everyone takes a sip before we start. It should last approximately ten minutes, just enough time to write on the cards".

"So we can't fabricate a secret", Draco mused.

"I don't understand what you find particularly amusing about the picture you just portrayed".

Hermione had finally got out of her self-imposed silence. She didn't seem particularly thrilled by the idea of playing the game.

"Really, I can't see this thing turning out anything but horrific".

"Got something to hide, Hermione?", Ginny teased her old friend.

" _Don't we all_?", she countered. "But I think there's a reason if we never share some things about ourselves. Seriously, think about it _logically_ ".

"I think you're right", Draco agreed. "But also things stopped sounding _logical_ when we had all those shots at the nightclub. I'm sure Pansy wouldn't propose it if she thought it would kill the mood of half of her bridal party".

"There's nothing I can tell you that is worse than what you already know about me".

" _Mh_ ", Hermione seemed unconvinced.

She closed her eyes and curled her nose as she wished for something, and a second later a hookah materialized in the middle of the table.

"Give me a second".

She took a huge blow, inhaling deeply the pink smoke before releasing it in the air through her mouth.

Harry noticed it smelled suspiciously like his favourite dish.

" _Fairy dust_ ", the witch explained.

She waited for each of them to have a go at it before she agreed to play the stupid game.

 _Whatever_.

Harry braced himself in anticipation as the Veritaserum was passed around once the hookah was gone, not before Pansy could snap a couple of group selfies with them, and he eyed the clear liquid suspiciously before making the split-second decision to just _go with the flow_ when the bottle got into his hands.

It was what made him Harry Potter, The Chosen One, the _bloody_ Savior of the Wizarding World.

Besides, he had nothing to hide.

Or maybe it was the _fairy dust_ acting on his behalf.

* * *

It took barely five minutes for the group to fill out the cards, words jolting out of the self-inking quills as if they didn't even need to think about their answers.

Hermione wondered if the Veritaserum was particularly strong as she stared down at her last card, eyes mindlessly dancing around the room as she thought of what she should write on it.

Her protests had not convinced the excited crowd around her to give up on the game, so now she found herself confronting the depths of her subconscious as she decided what secret she could afford to let out in the open.

The moment she'd realized it was happening, they were taking the potion and playing, it didn't take her long to formulate her strategy, though she suspected others could get to her same deductions: someone was compelled to admit ownership of a card only if directly called out by one of the other players, but since the ultimate goal was to guess correctly more than the opponents, they were allowed to admit ownership of their card after the first two guesses were made.

Which was why she planned on owning up to two of them, but sadly she couldn't think of another one nobody in the room knew about that she was willing to share. _Yet_. Perhaps _ever_.

She loved Pansy, but sometimes her ideas were the worst.

Hermione sighed and wrote down her final card, waiting for the words to change into a handwriting that wasn't hers before she put her part of the deck back into the box.

So to hell went her plan of using her friends handwriting to guess when it was her turn.

"Shall you pick up the first card, babe?", Harry asked Pansy as six small bottles of FireWhisky with matching glasses appeared in front of each of them. "You suggested we played, after all".

The witch could understand why the Slytherin had added a second penalty: it was to discourage fake guesses.

At least it didn't seem she wanted to be playing this game all night long.

Pansy nodded, smiling sheepishly at the crowd before she put her hand on the deck and took the first card, shielding it with her other hand before she shared its content with them.

" _In fifth year I used to stuff my bras to make my breasts look bigger_ ".

Hermione knew the secret wasn't hers, so she instinctively glanced at the other two people sitting at the table who had _breasts_ to begin with.

Pansy was doing the same, a brow mockingly raised in her direction, while Ginny was pretending to be very interested in the ceiling.

"Well, obviously it can't be one of you three boys. But I would love to hear that _Prefect_ Granger used to stuff her bra like a commoner", the Slytherin quipped. " _Pretty please_?"

"Drink, darling", Hermione smiled at her.

Pansy turned to Ginny, whose cheeks were downright burning.

The red-headed cleared her throat.

"Well, it's not exactly easy to get the attention of someone who speaks with Voldemort more than he speaks with you", she said, bitterly.

Then her eyes widened and she brought a hand to cover her mouth.

" _Fuck_. I'm so sorry, Harry. I swear it's not as it sounds", she apologized. "I just meant that I've been there, although I was eleven. I've experienced first-hand how completely _He_ could lure you in".

Harry shook his head. "I'm not mad at you, Ginny. I know what you meant".

"Maybe we should have waited for the Veritaserum to lay off before we started the actual game", Zabini noted, unhelpfully.

He circled his girlfriend's shoulders with one arm and squeezed her tightly, in a clear attempt at comforting her without being too obvious about noticing her distress.

Hermione understood why Ginny seemed to be so head over heels about the wizard.

He truly acted as he wanted what was best for her.

"Well, one point for me", Pansy said, trying to steer the conversation in another direction.

The table produced a piece of parchment and quickly she wrote all their names, but with an X after her own.

Harry picked up a card.

" _I used to be terrified of heights_ ", he read.

The wizard took a minute or two to think about it.

"Well, it obviously can't be Hermione's because everyone knows about that. Pansy?", he mused.

The witch shook her head.

"So, perhaps, it was you again... _Ginny_? Maybe it's a nice story of overcoming one's fears to become a great Quidditch player".

Hermione smiled internally.

It was cute to see how he still seemed to care about the way she felt even though they'd broken up not once but twice.

She had never kept too much of a relationship with Victor after they'd parted ways, just the occasional letter to ask each other if they were doing fine, but Krum was definitely her _cleanest_ breakup.

"Nope, it's not me", Ginny said. "Drink, Potter".

Harry didn't complain, and dutifully poured himself a shot, which was delivered into his system no longer than thirty seconds later. " _Cheers_ ".

Hermione was having an internal debate about on whether she should try to guess or not when Malfoy erased every doubt by smirking down at the little crowd.

"It lasted just a couple of months, but I was reaching the point where even the stairs from a floor to another scared the hell out of me. One morning I had been exploring the gardens when I thought it was a _brilliant_ idea to climb up the highest tree. It was the first time my brain actually registered pain, and in the following days all I could think of was how much it had hurt. So Lucius put me on top of a broom and told me that _Malfoys don't climb trees_...", Draco paused, his face turning into a grimace. " _They own the sky_ ".

His voice was dripping sarcasm by the end of his tale, freezing any possible question about the first part of his story, where he'd sounded such an innocent and sweet child, the opposite of the one they'd all gone to school with.

"My turn", Hermione announced, her voice a bit more high-pitched than she would have liked. Picking up a card, her eyes narrowed on the words written on it. " _Woo_ , this is dark".

" _I've already planned my funeral"._

Reading the words out loud didn't give her any more clarity.

She had no idea who to pin this on.

Her only idea was that it could be Draco's secret, considering he'd just recently been attacked, and with deadly purpose, but she knew it was a weak guess.

Sadly, she couldn't come up with a better option, and the _Veritaserum_ did the rest.

Now it made much more sense why someone as reserved as Draco had seemed so keen on sharing his personal stuff with so many people at once.

"It's you, Malfoy?", she asked, although she wasn't surprised when he denied her accusation.

The problem was that they'd all been at the Battle of Hogwarts, they had all risked their lives at some point along the line, and therefore each and every one of them must have thought about death at least once.

The card could be true for every one of them, herself included.

"It could be anyone", she protested.

Now that she was playing, at least she wanted to _win_.

"Then say a name and drink your shot with dignity", Pansy hushed her.

Hermione snorted. "Blaise?"

He'd been her guess for the previous card, maybe it could work for this one.

"I'm afraid not, Hermione", Zabini chuckled.

The witch prepared her shot and swallowed it down without speaking any further.

No one expressed the desire to figure out the puzzle themselves, wary of the two shots penalty, so now it was up to Draco to pick up a new card.

He subtly placed a hand on top of her thigh as he reached for the deck with the other, gently squeezing her leg. She eyed him sideways and flashed him a private smile.

" _I always check my appearance whenever I spot a reflective surface_ ".

The Slytherin cursed under his breath. He had no idea who the card could belong to.

"Well, this could easily be one of mine. Now, there's one person who used to spend more time than myself in front of the mirror", he reasoned, mockingly arching a brow at Blaise.

The other wizard shrugged, a smirk on the full lips.

"Is it you, _Zab_?"

"Nice try, mate", Blaise shook his head.

He didn't seem surprised to be his first choice. His vanity was an old inside joke for their group.

Draco tried to focus. He still had a possibility to get this right and avoid the penalty.

He was sure it wasn't Pansy, because he knew all her telltale signs and therefore she should be blinking furiously while trying to remain undetected right now, but she was not.

He glanced up at Potter and then at Ginevra, but nothing in their faces suggested they were particularly bothered by the matter at hand.

The wizard didn't need to look up at her, suddenly realizing her stillness beside him.

Granger was extremely good at lying with words, but her body language was an open book for him.

"Merlin, this is a surprise...", he said, feeling her tense up even more on his right. "Hermione?"

The witch sighed wearily. "You caught me. I wish it was _pride_ rather than self-awareness".

Her nose was crunched up in disgust, as if she was terribly disappointed with herself.

"Let's see", Blaise clapped his hands together before he picked up the fifth card.

" _I gave my first kiss in the Hogwarts library"_ , he read. "I feel compelled to accuse you, Hermione. You were famous for your passion for that place even in Slytherin".

The Gryffindor witch smiled at him, deleting his smug smirk with a simple thumbs down.

" _Really_?", Draco turned to her. "Well, _I_ , for one, am surprised. I'd have said it was you, too".

Harry laughed. "Are you sure you're talking about Hermione? She was too devoted to that place to do something like that. She'd have never disrespected it".

The blond shrugged. It made sense.

But he and Blaise hadn't been close to her during that time of her life.

It hurt to know Potter was always going to be one step ahead of him when it came to knowing her.

Blaise turned to Potter, eyeing him thoughtfully.

"Yeah, of course, that would be the perfect strategy", he muttered to himself. "You jumped in so that you could cover your tracks, Auror Potter. _J'accuse_!"

"My first kiss was in the Room of Requirement, fifth year", The-Boy-Who-Lived retorted. "It was a very sad deal and by the end of it she was even _crying_ , but no library for me".

Hermione glanced at him, sympathetically. She knew all about his disastrous attempt at snogging Cho Chang after a D.A. meeting.

"If it's any consolation, she's eating my leftovers", she said, referring to his last birthday party, where the witch had been seen in the company of Victor Krum, the world-famous Quidditch champion who'd taken her to Yule Ball on the Christmas Eve. It was almost ten years ago.

She could barely remembered what she had thought that night, although she knew she'd stressed over her appearance and insecurities for hours before the event.

"I guess I'll just have to drink", Zabini took his defeat as a gentleman, and rapidly gulped down his shot of FireWhisky.

He did it with such a haste he almost chocked on it.

"You should too, Potter", he added. "To forget about that kiss with Cho Chang".

Surprisingly, he sounded as if there was comradery in his voice rather than the old mockery.

"Someone else want to make a guess?", asked Ginny.

"Yes, please", Hermione nodded. "I think I know who the card belongs to".

The others braced themselves for what came next.

They all had an idea of who could be behind it, but they were impressed with her willingness to risk and test hers.

"Am I right, _Pansy_?"

"One point for you", the witch scoffed, updating the scores in the parchment and adding one point to both Draco and Hermione.

Ginny resumed the game.

" _I enjoy doing exactly what other people tell me not to do._ _Okay, okay_. This is interesting. I can work with this".

The red-headed took some time to ponderate her options.

On one hand, the statement was so generic it could easily apply to each of them, at least to some extent, but on the other she wasn't sure who could think of such a thing as a secret rather than something they publicly acknowledged.

Then something clicked in her mind.

"Give me a point, Pansy", she smiled. "It's Harry".

"Guilty as charged", the Auror confirmed with a low chuckle.

He brushed a hand on top of his messy, raven nest of short curls, looking uncomfortable.

"I guess I never really thought about it before tonight-", he paused. His green eyes widened. "Guys, I think the _Veritaserum_ 's off. I just _lied_ to you with exceptional ease".

He realized with some delay the implications of his admission.

With bold cheeks and raging shame, Harry turned to his girlfriend.

"Perhaps this game was not your greatest idea, babe", he whispered in her ear.

* * *

Harry turned out to be right, in the confession he'd made to his girlfriend but which Ginny had heard thanks to their proximity.

Snuggled up in Blaise's arms, the red-haired witch was still recovering from all the things Pansy's game had brought to her knowledge.

The second round started with a secret from her boyfriend, who apparently, and she quoted, had " _had sex with someone a close friend liked_ ".

It happened way before the two of them started dating, so she wasn't really concerned with the whole _sleeping with another woman_ part of the story, but she still felt terribly sorry for the friend he'd done such a terrible thing to, namely Theo.

Parkinson had not only called him out on her first guess; she'd also said she'd noticed there had been a period during which the two of them were colder than usual in their interactions, just after a couple months since her return to England.

From her outside perspective and first-hand experience, Nott seemed to have forgiven Blaise and to be currently pretty smitten with Luna, but Ginny didn't know him well enough to realize if things were truly okay between the two of them.

Her boyfriend was adamant they were fine. She hoped he was right, because she knew his friends were the only support system he was ever going to have. She'd met Helen Zabini, after all.

Harry's second card had turned out to be one of hers, specifically the one where she'd written down " _I always wished I looked a little less like the rest of my family"._

Luckily for Ginny, her ex gave the wrong answer twice, picking Malfoy at first and then Pansy.

Nobody tried to guess further and they passed the turn, and so and so until many skeletons were out of their closets.

For example, it had been five years since the last time since someone had been able to produce a Patronus.

Harry was " _fascinated by death_ ".

Draco panicked " _every bloody time"_ he thought about the future.

Apparently Blaise sometimes enjoyed to " _casually set things on fire a little bit_ ", while Ginny herself had been teased endlessly about the fact she used to write poetry in Riddle's journal.

By the end of the game they weren't excessively sloshed, not more than they had upon arriving at the lounge, anyway, so once the deck was back in its box with the self-inking quills and the vial of Veritaserum, which seemed to have refilled itself in the meantime, the group took advantage of the room's properties to get themselves more drinks.

Their impromptu trip to Australia was reaching its end, and nobody wanted to be the first to suggest they should go upstairs and then to bed. As confusing and shocking as their night had been, their holiday had been nothing but light-hearted fun.

She hadn't realized how much she'd needed that.

 _Who ever wishes for_ fun _to end_?

Ginny most definitely did not.

* * *

 ** _(Muggle London — England;  
October 28th, 2003, around 04:30 p.m.)_**

* * *

After twelve days of meticulous preparations, _stalking_ and snapping pictures of the woman she was following, Rita Skeeter was finally ready to make her move and discover if her efforts were going to pay up.

Many bad, awful things could be said about the witch, she was well aware of it, but she was nothing if not _efficient_ and _prepared_ when it came to her job.

She'd become a reporter as soon as she'd graduated from Hogwarts, writing freelance pieces for this or that unknown magazine until one day the chief-editor of the Daily Prophet at the time, Barnabas Cuffe, had sent her an owl with an offer she couldn't refuse.

He seemed to have noticed the purpose beyond her writing, swaying people's opinion with suppositions and half-truths rather than a will to report facts as they happened, but he didn't seem to mind it.

He'd given her a fixed column in the Thursdays evening issue, happy to let her play her games, only occasionally demanding the reputations she destroyed were those of certain designated people.

Mr. Cuffe had had many rich, influential friends.

It was a pity he'd been sacked at the end of the war, kicked out with every dishonor for how easily he'd sold the paper to Voldemort's regime.

Though she knew Barnabas had been quite aligned with some ancient lines of thought, Pureblood supremacy to name the one, it wasn't as if their competitors had tried to print what was going on after the Death Eaters had taken control of the Ministry.

Unsurprisingly, along with her boss most of his staff had been fired, too, and for five years she'd seethed behind her desk at _WitchWeekly_ , still doing what she did best — _throwing shade on people_ — but without the old passion: Rita didn't care much for housewife gossip after she'd dived so deep into the intricacies of politics.

Power, money, status.

Those were the things she was interested in, not bloody singers cheating on their girlfriends.

If at first she'd thought of Hermione Granger's return as of the bane of her existence, now the blonde witch considered it a blessing.

Hadn't she bought WitchWeekly for her brother, forcing her to swallow some of her pride and seek employment back at the Prophet, Rita wouldn't be selling as many copies as she was recently.

Her bonuses had gone up to the roof recently and she'd bought herself a lot of nice things, like the periwinkle dressing robes she was wearing right now, so it was only _fair_ that, when she finally got her chance to destroy the younger witch, she did it spectacularly.

She just needed to get her hands on the right piece of information, then she was going to be more than happy to settle down her old score with the girl who'd kept her locked up in a small jar for an entire summer, trapped in her beetle Animagus form.

Rita still couldn't believe she'd turned out to be the daughter of Anastasia Greengrass, but it made sense, considering how instinctively she'd disliked her upon first discovering she even existed, back when she was covering Potter's dodgy presence in the TriWizard Tournament.

She'd had a crush on Cantankerus Nott for the largest part of her time at Hogwarts.

When in her third year, the fourth for him, the two had started talking at Prefects meetings and from there very soon were officially _courting_ , her heart had been broken in two.

The bitter memory brought a grimace to her face, which she quickly turned into a pout as she looked at her clock and noticed she'd been standing in her hiding spot for almost two hours now.

Normally she'd let the younger reporters do the field search, her designer shoes certainly weren't meant for that, but for this particular piece she needed to make sure she had the facts straights for once.

Only then she could twist them and sold them in the shape they were the most profitable.

Her goal for today was to finally talk to the sister of the muggle woman who had given birth to Draco Malfoy's child, and she couldn't wait to stand on the ashes of his already shattered reputation: the public opinion was still very interested in what he did, even five years after the end of the war and his trial, and she knew most people still had not decided if he was as _reformed_ as he was trying to appear.

Rita didn't know Draco enough to tell, but something was definitely different in his parents.

Lord and Lady Malfoy had used to be one of the _it couples_ of her generation, praised and envied by friends and enemies alike, but now they barely attended social events, and when they did they associated with people who were raising more than one brow in proper Pureblood circles.

Lucius was rumored to be connecting with Narcissa's estranged sister, Andromeda Tonks. The witch had married a _muggle_ , for Salazar's sake!

Well, it seemed they weren't of a _better breed_ all along.

As the third muggle almost stepped into her hiding spot, where she stood behind a tree while camouflaged into the landscape thanks to a _Concealing Charm_ , Rita was tempted to give up and return tomorrow.

It seemed Olivia Lewis wasn't going to return home very soon.

It was the first time in twelve days that she changed her routine, and the witch couldn't help it but curse her under her breath.

She didn't want to spend her entire day in this muggle neighborhood, staring at her boring muggle house, but at the same time her editor, Mr. Culpepper, was starting to complain about her tardiness on delivering the scoop she'd promised him.

Rita had managed to lie her way out of it, telling him the woman had been busy with a sick grandmother and therefore she'd postponed their meeting, but now she was starting to wonder if perhaps it wouldn't have been a better idea to just come clean.

She had a feeling there was something there, something printable, and she was willing to do anything that was necessary to get her hands on it.

She didn't know for sure ( _yet_ ) if Christian would be okay with a bit of old-fashioned Slytherin rule-bending — he'd grown up in America, and she didn't know much about American ethics.

Finally a familiar car turned the corner and came into view.

The blonde took a sigh of relief, but her satisfied smile was soon replaced by the frown that found its way on her face every time she was faced by the muggle contraception.

How could they trust a piece of metal to carry them around at such speeds she didn't understand.

Only magic was _unerring_.

The car stopped in front of the white door, if not a bit on its left, and soon enough a familiar head of raven curls stepped out of it, circling the vehicle to retrieve a child from the back seat.

Rita braced herself, for this was it. She needed to act fast.

Glancing around to see if there were muggles close by, Rita released the spell and became visible once again when she was sure there was nobody around.

Quickly she put her wand back into her purse, which she'd charmed to be more spacious, and as she walked out of the small park and towards the entrance of the suburban house, the blonde repeated the cover story she'd created for when she would finally approach the woman.

"Ms. Lewis?", she called, from the other side of the road.

It didn't seem as if Olivia had heard her, so Rita tried again.

"Olivia Lewis?"

She stepped onto the road without knowing of the muggle custom of looking on both sides before doing so, and more importantly doing it on the crosswalks.

A car had to dangerously dodge her and the driver honked at her.

" _Bloody hell_!"

That seemed to do the trick, because the raven haired woman finally turned around to glance at Rita, one hand holding that of the child while the other carried some grocery bags.

She waited to be just a couple feet from her before she plastered on her best fake smile.

"Can I help you?", Olivia asked, suspiciously.

"Hello!", Rita greeted her, faking cheerfulness. "My name's _Anne Robinson._ I'm here on behalf of the... umh, _authority_. We have reason to believe you could answer some questions about someone we're currently investigating".

Her plan was great. Pretend to be a muggle Auror (or whatever it was those savages had) and you'll sound not only believable, but also _reliable._

"I see", the other said, unconvinced.

She eyed the white door, then glanced back at Rita.

"Perhaps it's better if you come inside. I can make some tea", she offered.

"Tea would be _wonderful_ ", the other replied. "It's nice to meet you, by the way".

Once they were inside, Rita was escorted to the living room and told to sit wherever she preferred, while the child was sent to play in his room.

The blonde was almost exhilarated by how smooth things seemed to be going, but when Olivia left the room to make the tea, it became clear she still had her suspicions.

"I'll be back in a little", she announced. "I'd like to see your _badge_ or at least a _warrant_ before we get to those questions, Ms. Robinson".

Luckily for her, she'd always been good at thinking quickly on her feet.

So she used her wand to transfigure one of the magazines on the coffee table into something that resembled the badge Aurors wore, and then she magically carved an acronym that sounded nice enough to seem realistic.

When she heard footsteps approaching the living room, she hid her wand in her purse once more, and kept her fake badge on her lap as she pretended to have been patiently waiting for Olivia all along.

Rita flashed her the badge at the speed of light, and begrudgingly handed it to her when she asked to see it more closely.

Upon a quick inspection, the woman sighed and returned it to her with a timid smile.

"I'm sorry, but I'm rather confused", she admitted. "I have no idea what I could possibly know that may be of aid for the police".

So that was what they were called.

"I know this may be a bit of a shock", Rita said, her voice laced with fake sympathy.

"So, who is it?", Olivia asked. "Who are you investigating?"

The blonde smiled, deeply enjoying the moment. "Are you familiar with the name _Draco Malfoy_?"

She watched, intrigued, as her whole body stiffened. Very interesting.

"He dated your sister, if my information is correct", she pressed.

Rita wasn't exactly sure it was true, but something had definitely happened between the two if they'd had a child together.

"I'm not privy to the type of relationship they had", Olivia answered after a while, unhelpfully. "I met Draco at the hospital, when _my sister_ \- When Jennifer died. I hadn't seen her in years before that".

"I'm sorry for your loss", Rita replied, although it was an attempt of bonding with her source rather than true compassion.

"I can't imagine what it's like to lose a sibling".

The second part sounded more honest. Being an only child, the witch really had no idea what it could feel like.

Besides she wasn't exactly a champion of empathy. _That shit was for_ _losers_.

"Anyway", Olivia cleared her throat, trying to push away the sadness and failing miserably.

It was clear she was still hurting over her sister's loss and that she had many regrets.

"May I ask why the government would be investigating Draco?"

Rita smiled. She'd prepared for this.

"You're probably aware that Draco comes from a very wealthy family and ancient family", she said.

It took all of her self control to stop herself from adding the word _Pureblood_.

She wasn't sure muggles were sophisticated enough to have developed such a concept.

"Yes. Well, he did mention something like that", Olivia offered. "He doesn't seem to like discussing his parents in depth, but he did say he'd just recently reconnected with his family when I met him".

"I'm sure he was devastated when he learned Jennifer had died giving birth to their child", she prompted.

"We both were", Olivia admitted. "But we were also terribly confused. He didn't know Jennifer was pregnant and neither did I. I knew I had to call him only because he was my sister's emergency contact".

Rita moistened her lips. "I understand", she said, although she really didn't.

She gestured for the other to continue.

"If they were ever together, they weren't anymore when my niece was born".

"I assume Mr. Malfoy has been taking care of the child?"

"And doing a great job at that", Olivia nodded with a smile, but it turned into a frown. "I'm sorry, but you still haven't told me why exactly you're investigating him. I'm sure it's not his private life you're concerned with".

 _Actually_ — Rita thought.

"It's not as if I can divulge my case with a civil, Olivia", she chided, repeating a sentence she'd heard one too many times by the Aurors. "Let's just say that we suspect some of his family's wealth may have been acquired without going through the proper channels".

"I still can't see how that concerns Draco. He's a _photographer_ ", the other protested. "I don't think he's involved in anything untoward his relatives may be doing".

"History has a tendency to repeat itself", Rita quipped, this time stealing a page from Professor Binns lessons. "Like I said, I can't go into details, but he's been involved before".

Pity that she was alluding to the Second Wizarding War while the muggle woman thought more of something like embezzlement.

"One may say he was the central piece in the chessboard, really", she lied. "Although it was his father who served a prison sentence for the crime".

"Whatever you think he did, I know nothing that suggests he'd doing it now", Olivia shook her head. "Perhaps is his father you should concern yourself with. You just said he's the one who's been to prison".

"Oh, I didn't mean to be so ambiguous, _dear_. Lucius Malfoy is definitely guilty of the charges he was convicted for", Rita said. "But he's no longer the head of the _family company_. Draco is".

That was a bit of a stretch. While the wizard was technically the owner of Malfoy Industries, he'd never administered it personally: right after the war, when his father had been sent to Azkaban the second time, it had been Narcissa to take the reins of the business and keep it afloat, and then she'd hired an external consultant until her husband had returned.

While Lucius technically still called all the shots, it was Draco who had the last word, although he'd never been involved with the company.

She glanced up at Olivia, who had a confused look on her face.

"I knew nothing about a family company", she noted. "But like I said, Draco's a photographer".

"Does he have a shop of some sort?", Rita inquired.

The dark-haired woman shook her head. "He just shows up to events when he's called and delivers the pictures to people's houses. They're a bit expensive, but he's good at what he does".

" _Mh_. I'm sure he is", the blonde agreed, halfheartedly. "Although isn't it a bit strange for someone with such _birth rights_ to be content with such a simple occupation?"

"That's a question you should ask Draco", Olivia countered. "It's not a crime to have money".

"Of course it's not", Rita agreed. "It's always good to have plenty. They get you food, a roof over your head, proper health care. Like _prenatal_ care".

She let her last sentence hung in the air.

The witch knew it was a wild shot, but somehow she felt as if it could work.

And Rita Skeeter always went with her gut.

The muggle woman didn't reply right away, sipping the last of her tea before she posed her cup down on the tray and retrieved hers, too, although it had been barely touched.

"It's getting late and Thomas has soccer practice in a little bit", Olivia said, although it was clear that she was lying to get her out of her house. "I'm afraid I can't help you any further, Ms. Robinson".

Rita had prepared for this outcome, too.

A graceful retreat was the best counterattack she currently had at her disposal, so she slid a hand inside of her purse and produced a fake business card as she pretended to be looking for something inside it.

She placed it on the coffee table and raised from her seat, with a final fake smile.

"In case you think of anything that may help us, feel free to write me at this address", the witch smirked. Renting a muggle post box had been traumatic, but now she could see it had been worth it. "Talking to you made me realize we may have been looking at the wrong guy, although I can't say we'll stop investing Draco Malfoy entirely".

She was willing to work on every angle.

If keeping up the pretense of being a muggle detective and convincing her victim that she could be helpful in proving the innocence of a man she seemed to care about, was the only way to get the information Rita so desperately wanted, then so be it.

Moral qualms gave wrinkles, anyway.

Stepping outside the white door, the witch erupted in the first truly felt smile of her morning.

She could finally return to her house in Diagon and get ready for her dinner with Culpepper.

* * *

On the other side of the world, Draco stared at his phone's screen, incredulous.

"Adhara's aunt just asked me if I've met the _Queen_ _of England_!"


End file.
